


Harry Potter and the Veil

by inukagome15



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Mentor Snape, Mystery, Post - Deathly Hallows, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel, Voldemort is a Pain in the Arse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 87,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inukagome15/pseuds/inukagome15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something went very wrong that Dumbledore never planned for. After only a year of peace, Voldemort came back to power. Now, eleven bloody years later, Harry Potter makes a critical choice that lands him in a position that he could only have dreamed of: to do it over once again, and make it right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The tinge of strong magic crackled through the air, burning the oxygen and filling the vast room with the distinct smell of ozone. Flashes of red, yellow, and green light sparked through a doorway before a figure tumbled through it. It rolled to the side and slammed the door shut with a wave of a stick.

“Severus!” the figure hissed, creeping alongside the wall. “ _Severus_!”

A different voice spoke from across the room. “Over here!”

The wizard who had called for Severus made it across the room in two seconds, coming to a stop by his tall companion. Grimly, twenty-nine year old Harry James Potter, the renowned Boy Who Lived and Chosen One, locked eyes with fifty-year-old Severus Snape. The younger wizard had a mess of black hair that was slightly streaked with gray; his emerald green eyes were shielded behind glasses and glinted with determination. His face was littered with small scars. His black robes were torn, bloodied, and all-around ragged.

The elder wizard’s lanky hair framed his face and was more gray than black; his face was sallow, lined, scarred, and showed weariness beyond his years. His obsidian eyes glittered in the dim light of the room, contrasting sharply with the green light of his younger companion. He no longer wore robes as they had been set on fire earlier but instead the clothes that had been on underneath, namely black form-fitting pants and a button-up, high-collared, and long-sleeved shirt.

The two had no time to further converse, however, as the doors leading into the room they were in began to rattle loudly.

Cursing, Severus turned back to the door he had entered through and warded it. “Did you ward your door?”

“They won’t get through it easily,” was all Harry said, vivid green eyes flicking towards it. “We should have ten minutes until  _he’s_  here.”

The two powerful wizards were currently in the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry of Magic. The room they were in was dark, cold, and filled with curious odd artifacts that neither of them wished to touch. The Unspeakables of the department surely had a reason for them being in this room and neither wished to find out why.

There was another loud crash from outside the room and both wizards snapped their wands in the direction of the sound. Harry gave his a flick and a dozen different objects piled in front of the door he had entered through earlier. Then he stepped to the door Severus had warded earlier and pressed a hand to it.

After a moment, he gave the older wizard a nod and dropped the ward, opening the door. The two stepped through to find themselves in a large circular room with a dozen other doors. They were back at the beginning.

Harry gave his wand another flick and the door that had just closed behind them glowed red before returning back to normal. That taken care of, they stepped forward only to find a different door on the far end suddenly blast open with a bright white light.

Instantly putting up a shield, Harry yanked open another door and grabbed Severus by the hem of his shirt, pulling both of them inside before shutting the door behind them. “Bloody  _hell_!” he swore, jabbing his wand in the direction of the door and placing a strong ward on it.

“Careful, Harry.” Severus placed a pale hand on his companion’s. “Save your strength for the fight later.”

Harry smiled bitterly. “Not much good if I can’t kill him, is it? Remind me again why I let you convince me this was a good idea?”

“Because against all odds, you trust me and thus my judgment,” Severus replied smoothly. “Now, you understand what must be done?”

Harry’s lips thinned and his eyes became steely. “It’s what’s been happening the last twelve years,” he said shortly. “But now we’re actually doing something else.”

They didn’t immediately react as the door on the other side of the room slammed open. It was when a figure tottered around the side of a bookshelf that Severus struck, unleashing a torrent of flame from his black wand. The fire formed a massive dragon, setting the bookshelf and the shrieking figure on flames before Severus canceled the curse, sucking the flames back into his wand.

Harry didn’t acknowledge the motion except to dash through the burned section, leaping over the pile of ashes that had previously been a Death Eater to make his way to the other side of the room. Severus was on his heels after casting another spell to knock the bookshelves down and make it harder for anyone to follow them.

The two were almost there when the entire atmosphere around them shifted. Harry noticed it first, his muscles tensing before he forced them to relax. As he did, though, his movements became more fluid as he shifted to a more battle-ready mode than what he had been in earlier. For his part, Severus simply stepped closer to Harry and made sure his wand wouldn’t be leaving him anytime soon.

“He’s here,” Harry noted softly.

The entire floor trembled beneath their feet and they held onto each other for balance. The air around them seemed to give a silent reverberation and Harry’s ears rang with a sound that was too loud for him to hear.

“Blast,” Severus hissed, face paling even further. “They’ve knocked the walls down. It would seem he no longer cares for the state of affairs of his beloved ministry.”

“Severus—”

He gripped Harry by the front of his robes with one hand. “You will live, Harry, you understand?”

Harry’s eyes flashed. “It’s just us two!” he shot back furiously. “What else is there to live  _for_? We went on this suicide mission  _because_  of that! Or did you forget?”

“I have lived for much longer than I ever could have anticipated, Harry,” Severus said rapidly, his entire stance tense. “But this entire war hinges on  _you_.”

“And I did such a bang-up job of it the first time,” Harry said bitterly, taking Severus’s hand off to clutch the wrist. “What are you planning on doing?”

Severus didn’t answer, instead channeling a large amount of magic through his wand and aiming it towards the wall. “ _Reducto_!” The white blast blew a large hole in the obstruction and the former Hogwarts professor shoved a protesting Harry through it. “Remember, Harry.”

Harry leapt forward with a cry. “Severus!” But he was too late as his former mentor sealed the wall up with a hasty  _Reparo_. He hit the newly repaired wall with a fist, mentally cursing whatever deity had given Severus such a bloody streak of stubbornness.

“What good is surviving this bloody war if everyone’s dead?” he muttered, stepping away from the wall. His eleven-inch holly and phoenix-feather wand was clutched tightly in his hand as he turned to face the room Severus had thrown him into. He inhaled sharply as he recognized the cursed room from his fifth year: the one that possessed the veil.

Carefully approaching the dais in the middle of the room, Harry spun around in a slow circle to take into account what the room had been used for in the last eleven years. He swallowed as he looked up at the ticking clock in the room, which read 11:50 P.M. It would soon be his thirtieth birthday, making it twelve years since the madness that was Lord Voldemort had been once again inflicted on the magical world.

 _Everything_  happened on his birthday. Everything except the last time he had killed the evil wizard and the first time he had vanquished the madman. The first time had been on Halloween and the last time had been on May 2, 1998. Now, twelve years later, he was still fighting the Madman-That-Should-Have-Bloody-Well-Died-By-Now.

Something had gone wrong. When Dumbledore had told him about the seven Horcruxes to destroy, Harry had thought that the end of the matter. But after killing Voldemort May 2nd and then finding out that the evil wizard had somehow come back to life a year later on July 31st – his  _birthday_  no less – Harry knew something had gone dreadfully wrong. The venerable headmaster had overlooked some critical fact that let Voldemort once again rise to power.

And not once in eleven – soon to be twelve – years had Harry or his friends found a way to destroy the evil bastard.

Severus had tried his best to help, but his knowledge of the Dark Arts was far surpassed by that of the Dark Lord’s. In truth, he should have died that night in the Shrieking Shack but some _thing_  had interfered. Harry had publicly hypothesized that the taking of Severus’s memories and the fact that he’d had the Resurrection Stone literally in his pocket (albeit in a Snitch) had kept Severus alive long enough so that by the time they came back to claim his body, he was still alive. Privately, he was of the opinion that being Master of Death had its uses, amongst which was keeping people alive if it was remotely possible.

Yet nothing had saved him from the carnage of the last eleven years. The Wizarding World had been at war for these long years and Voldemort was winning.

Winning and currently standing right outside this room if his senses were accurate.

“You’d better not be dead, Severus,” Harry muttered, even though his former mentor was most likely dead by now.

Jumping down from the dais, Harry dove for the cover of a bench just as the door leading to the room blasted open, showering the area with debris.

A soft voice snaked its way into the air, sending chills down the wizard’s back. “Harryyy… I know you’re here. Wherever Severus is you aren’t far behind…”

Harry remained still, keeping his breathing quiet and his magic tightly reined in. He couldn’t afford to make any mistakes until he was absolutely sure of his odds. Chances were that he was dead anyway but he could still go down fighting.

A chuckle rent the air. “Don’t you want to see your beloved mentor one last time?”

This time he couldn’t stop the flinch that ran through his body. Severus was still alive?

Soft footsteps sounded on the stones and Harry wordlessly Disillusioned himself, sneaking back as he did. When he’d reached the end of the bench, he silently stood up, wand in hand. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the man that Voldemort was levitating in front of him.

The demon was robed in black, his snakelike red eyes glittering with malice. His white skin contrasted sharply with his robes and blended with the wand he held, a new one he had made since discarding the yew and phoenix-feather that was brother to Harry’s. It was still yew, but the core was from a basilisk’s heartstring.

“He’s waiting for you, Harry,” Voldemort called, his voice resonating with happiness. “He’s waiting to see you  _one last time_.”

Harry turned his head to see the Death Eaters that had entered the room behind their master. They circled the room from above, black cloaks fluttering and pale dead faces blanched in the torchlight. Ha. Voldemort had already made one thing easier for Harry to solve.

Severus was motionless before Voldemort and suspended like a ragdoll. His wand was gone and his body seemed immaculate, although Harry knew he’d probably been cursed multiple times before Voldemort had taken him in.

“Don’t feel like showing yourself, Harry?” Voldemort curved his lips in a sneer, pointing his wand directly at Severus’s body. “Perhaps you need some incentive?  _Reducto_.” The curse was at low power and hit Severus directly in the leg.

A low hiss was the only sound that showed that the man felt any pain from the bones in his leg all shattering.

Harry had to clamp his jaws together to stop himself from screaming. Not now…

Voldemort let lose a low chuckle and cheerfully hit Severus with a Bone-Breaking Curse, shattering the bones in his arms and other leg. “Still not presenting yourself, Harry? Perhaps you need some more…incentive.”

Before Harry could blink, Voldemort had slashed Severus’s chest open with a Dark curse. Blood spurted out and splashed against Voldemort’s robes. The Dark Lord simply smiled in rapture as he watched his former servant gasp in pain.

And that was it. Harry could no longer watch and stand back to see his friend and mentor be tortured to death. Snapping his wand around in a circle above his head, he summoned a torrent of Fiendfyre that blocked the Death Eaters from approaching. It settled itself in a ring directly at the top, crackling and burning with Dark Magic. At the same time, Harry dropped the Disillusionment spell, sprinting towards Voldemort and Severus.

Voldemort simply widened his grin and locked eyes with Harry as he pointed his wand directly towards Severus, whispering one of the curses that had caused both Harry and Severus to be feared amongst Death Eaters. “ _Sectumsempra._ ” He accompanied this with a rapid slashing motion of his wand, Severus’s body literally torn apart with the sheer force of the magic behind the curse.

“ _SEVERUS_!” Harry screamed, hand outstretched as if he could stop the curse from hitting his friend, mentor, and one of the last surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix.

Voldemort simply smiled at Harry’s obvious pain. “Too late, Harry?”

Harry snapped. His nonchalant tone, the last eleven years of pain, the deaths of his friends, and now the death of his mentor and most trusted friend was the last straw. With an inarticulate roar of rage, Harry hurled curse after curse at the most feared Dark Lord in history. Voldemort wasn’t laughing any longer, having to hold off the extremely skilled and extremely mad wizard that was matching him spell for spell and curse for curse.

“Not so confident anymore, are you, Tom?” Harry seethed, eyes blazing with power as he shot an  _Incendio_  that was blocked by  _Aguamenti_. “No. You’re nothing but a  _coward_!” He punctuated this statement with a Blasting Curse that hit the ground at Voldemort’s feet, pushing him back.

The Death Eaters at the top clamored for their lord but were unable to breach the Fiendfyre that was still crackling before them. Thus, they could only watch as Harry came closer and closer to Voldemort, pushing him against the dais and the veil that was fluttering behind him.

“Now, Harry, you know you can’t kill me,” Voldemort said, shielding against three successive curses. He launched the Killing Curse at Harry, but was blocked as Harry conjured a large block of stone that shattered upon impact. His red eyes widened as Harry was suddenly directly before him, having used the distraction to cross the last few feet.

“You want to bet on that, Tom?” Harry smirked and launched himself directly at Voldemort, snarling a “ _Reducto_!” just as he hit the Dark Lord. The curse tore through the wizard’s chest and threw him backwards into the side of the veil. The added momentum of Harry knocked him aside and through the fluttering cloth, just as Sirius Black had fallen through fourteen years earlier.

But Voldemort wasn’t the only one. Unable to stop his momentum, Harry found himself plunging into the abyss as well and into endless darkness.

The last thing he heard were the ringing chimes of the clock in the Department of Mysteries spelling out midnight on July 31st, 2010.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first "Harry Potter" fic. It's a WIP, but I've got about fifteen chapters written, and a bunch more in the far future. This first chapter is rather short, and so is the next, but the length starts picking up afterward. As a note, everything in the "Harry Potter" universe is considered canon here (or mostly canon as I'll be twisting it to suit my own ends), but I'll be taking liberties from "Deathly Hallows" onward, which you'll be seeing as the story progresses.
> 
> There will be no romance except for pairings that existed in the past/future.


	2. Thirty Going on Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 04/03/16: I've made a few adjustments here in light of future events that I have planned.

He was floating through endless darkness and bitter cold. Sirius had told him it was like falling asleep and he’d fallen through this very veil. So why the bloody hell was it so  _cold_? Why did it feel like needles were piercing every single pore of his body? If this was dying, Harry wanted back to when he was seventeen and hit with  _Avada Kedavra_. At least that was quick, painless, and to the point.

Whispers floated through his surroundings but try as he might, he couldn’t understand a single word. This both frustrated and relieved him.

Why couldn’t he die? He was tired. He was so tired of fighting, of living, and of simply  _being_. He wanted to see his friends. He wanted to see his family. He wanted to see Dumbledore and throttle him and scream that all his plans had gone to hell in a hand basket and that Voldemort was back and that England was in ruins because he’d missed something. He wanted to see Severus Snape and hug him and annoy him with his friendship.

He just wanted some  _peace_!

No sooner had he thought this did he hear a whistling. Then the piercing stopped but was followed by what felt like wind pushing him up. What was first a small breeze turned into a billowing gust that sent him hurtling through the blackness and into a bright flash of white light and once again into soft darkness that was not blinding.

Harry slammed into something that seemed to jerk all his limbs. For a moment, his head burst into familiar flames right where his lightning bolt scar was before it went out. As the pain disappeared, his lungs started working and he inhaled sharply in a gasp. Eyes snapping open, Harry rolled to the side, only to find that he was not on the floor but rather rolling  _off_  of something.

Reflexes kicking in, he let his arms loosely take his weight before he shifted and jumped up, reaching for his wand only to find that it was nowhere on his person or even in sight. Blinking, Harry absorbed his queer, familiar, and completely unexpected surroundings.

A large wooden trunk stood open at the foot of the bed, holding a cauldron, broomstick, black robes, and books that he hadn’t seen in years since graduating from Hogwarts. There was a derelict desk set up by the wall that was filled with rolls of parchment; also on the desk was perched an empty owl cage.

Harry’s eyes drifted back to his bed and he stooped to pick up an open book lying by it. It was Flying with the Cannons, a book he hadn’t had the joy of reading in years. He took the moment to peruse the well-loved pages before closing it and placing it on his bedside table. Then, with all the purpose of a battle-hardened veteran, Harry swept aside the curtains covering the window to find himself staring out at Privet Drive.

“What the bloody hell?” Harry muttered, still scanning his surroundings. From what he could see, he was back at Number Four Privet Drive. Back in the bedroom he’d left behind when he was still sixteen. The bedroom that he’d never seen since Privet Drive and the rest of the Muggle town he was currently in had been razed to the ground courtesy of a power hungry Lord Voldemort.

His voice made him stop short. It was younger than what he’d expected. Suspicious, Harry opened the wardrobe door and used the mirror on the inside. Its reflection showed him clearly what he’d begun to suspect but had hoped wasn’t true: he was a teenager again; scrawny, still slightly shorter than average, and with a shock of black hair that still hadn’t gained its premature gray streaks. His face was unmarred except for the round glasses perched on his nose and the lightning bolt scar half-hidden under his fringe.

And his arms were nothing but unmarked skin. Even his hands were normal…

He looked down at them, flexing them wonderingly. The jagged white lines that had become normal were no longer there, and he could easily use his hands. There were no traces of numbness or muscle twitches, and there was no scar on the back of his hand that read  _I must not tell lies._

Snapping his head around, Harry looked for the calendar that he always had by his bedside. Sure enough, the date was now August of 1994. Weakly, Harry sank down on the deflated mattress that served as his bed. It was far more comfortable than what he had become used to during the final years of the war-ridden world he had just left.

What in bloody hell had  _happened_? He’d hit Voldemort with a curse that destroyed his chest and then thrown both of them through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. But instead of dying like Sirius had or anyone else who was thrown through it, he’d come back in  _time_?

Breathing in deeply, Harry searched mentally for any spells or other residue that would make it possible that he was hallucinating. When he came back empty, he had to admit that for better or for worse, he was now physically fourteen years old and with the Trace still on him.

Mouth twitching into what could be called a smile, Harry fetched his wand from his trunk and gave it a little twirl over his head, twisting his magical signature as he did. He felt the foreign obstruction of the Trace disappear and broadened his smile; he was now able to perform magic without the blasted Ministry observing his every move.

Using this opportunity, Harry Transfigured his bed into something much more comfortable and resembling that of his four-poster bed in Gryffindor tower. Then, thoughtfully fingering his wand, he repaired the desk and the miserable looking chair accompanying it. As he did so, he took note of several birthday cards propped on the bedside table. The sight made him take a seat on his newly repaired chair and think about his options now that he was, for some indiscernible reason, once again fourteen years old.

At fourteen, he had the unfortunate luck of seeing his name being placed in the Goblet of Fire. He had had to face a dragon, mermaids, and Voldemort himself. Then he’d had the terribly unfortunate luck of being accosted by a Death Eater in disguise. That was easily remembered. But what else was he forgetting?

The Quidditch World Cup for one thing. His eyes darkened as he remembered that terrible night. He would be getting an invitation soon, which meant seeing the Weasleys…and Ron.

The very thought of seeing his best friend again made Harry’s heart ache. It had been a year since his best friend had been brutally murdered by Death Eaters when trying to escape a library. Ron had always joked that libraries would be the death of him, but they’d never considered that it could actually happen.

The fact was that Ron had been in the library because Hermione had been killed two years earlier while trying to help Muggle-born witches and wizards escape from one of Voldemort’s cruel prisons. He’d been researching a possible way for Harry to defeat Voldemort.

Harry was resolved that it wouldn’t happen again. No one else was going to die because of his stupidity this time. This time…Voldemort wouldn’t have the slightest chance in hell of getting his hands on that wand.

Thinking of the wand made Harry think of Dumbledore and that drew his thoughts to the infamous blood wards surrounding Privet Drive. They were only supposed to work as long as he thought of this place as home but he hadn’t thought of this place as home since leaving it that first time and even before that Hogwarts had been considered home. What did that mean for the blood wards now that he was mentally thirty years old and sitting in his old bedroom?

They were probably null and void.

To confirm his thoughts, Harry once again reached out with his mental senses and searched for anything resembling the powerful wards Albus Dumbledore had erected. When he could sense nothing, he realized that Privet Drive would no longer be a safe “haven” for him.

That brought up a new problem of where he would be going now that this house was no longer a safe “haven” for him. Where else could he go? He’d become an expert at wards since Bill Weasley had taught him everything he knew before his death at the hands of an undead Fenrir Greyback. Perhaps he could concoct something that would keep this house safe from Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. Even in the future that now longer was, Voldemort had never been able to get past Harry’s wards.

He wasn’t called Voldemort’s equal for nothing. But while fighting insane dark wizards didn’t make him nervous, facing his best friend’s family after having thought of them as dead for years did.

What was he going to do?

* * *

After being rudely awakened by his very obese uncle following the little sleep he’d managed to garner, Harry was seriously reconsidering his decision on staying with his  _beloved_  family any longer than necessary. But since he did have a wand and knew how to use it, he figured he could come to an agreement of sorts with his loving relatives.

As Harry sat down at the breakfast table, somehow managing to squeeze himself besides his whale of a cousin, who was taking up two whole chairs, he stared in disbelief at the spread…which consisted of grapefruit.

Crap, he’d forgotten about this.

Petunia Dursley placed a miserable quarter of grapefruit on Harry’s plate. Glancing to the side, Harry noted that Dudley’s portion was bigger than his own, though the diet was for Dudley’s benefit.

Considering his scrawny size and the fact that he could do magic now, Harry figured that this really wouldn’t do at all. The cakes under the floorboard in his room weren’t exactly healthy for a growing boy.

Hiding a wicked grin, Harry cheerfully pushed his grapefruit quarter over to his morbidly obese blonde cousin and stood up to go to the fridge and check for something more suitable for a growing teenager who was also underweight.

Vernon Dursley, equally obese as his son, glared at Harry out of beady little eyes. “Boy,” he growled, “what do you think you’re doing?”

“Getting myself something decent to eat.” Harry fetched a carton of eggs, milk, and cheese, thankful that they didn’t just have fruits and vegetables in the house. “I’m not the one who needs to lose a stone or two.”

There was a loud clatter as Vernon angrily overturned his chair. “You will eat what Petunia puts on your plate, boy, and nothing else. You’re lucky that we already feed you what we do!”

Harry calmly turned around, coolly meeting Vernon’s eyes. “Oh, yes, Vernon. Starving your nephew and giving him less than what his overweight cousin eats is certainly called ‘feeding.’ I’m not the one who needs to lose a stone or even two. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m wearing your son’s clothing, which is far too big and ragged.”

Vernon purpled dangerously, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Boy…” He took a menacing step towards Harry but was stopped in his tracks as a holly wand pointed directly at his chest. The large man swallowed, suddenly extremely nervous. “Y-you can’t use that freakish stuff outside of school. You’ll be expelled!”

“Will I?” Harry said nonchalantly, cocking his head to the side. “I think you’ll find that things have changed, Vernon, since yesterday. I’m perfectly able to use  _magic_ ”—he relished the flinch Vernon gave at the word—“outside of school now.” Not taking his eyes off his uncle, Harry gave his wand a flick and began making a plate of eggs. “If I really wanted to, I could bind you to your chair right now and not think anymore of it.”

Neither Petunia nor Dudley had moved from their chairs since Harry had taken out his wand. Both of them were ashen; Petunia’s tea lay neglected on the table while Dudley had stopped gulping down what remained of Harry’s grapefruit.

“So what will it be,  _Uncle_?” Harry asked softly, his green eyes not leaving his uncle’s. “Will you sit down peacefully or make me bind you?”

Vernon didn’t take long to make his decision, although it probably helped that Harry kept his wand pointed at him the entire time. With that taken care of, Harry turned his attention to making his breakfast, though half an eye was still kept on his relatives to make sure that nothing else would happen.

By the time his eggs were finished, there was the sound of the doorbell. Harry shoveled his eggs onto a plate, raising an eyebrow at the purpling Vernon.

“That had better not be a bloody salesman,” Vernon muttered thunderously, pushing his chair out to go and answer the door.

Harry promptly took the vacated chair and began eating, levitating the rest of the grapefruit that was on the kitchen counter over to his plate with a flick of his fingers. He needed more sustenance than just the eggs, although he’d have to see about getting some sort of nutrition potion to make up for the malnutrition of the previous years.

Within two minutes, Vernon came stomping back into the kitchen. He once again purpled upon seeing Harry sitting in his chair but didn’t say anything as the wand lay in plain view on the table with Harry’s right hand resting by it. Instead, he threw an opened envelope on the table.

“It’s for you,” he grunted.

Putting his fork down, Harry inspected the envelope, a grin tugging at his lips as he recognized the envelope as one Molly Weasley had sent to invite him to the Quidditch World Cup. It was covered with stamps and the address was squeezed in the middle.

“Well, she certainly put on enough stamps,” Harry said cheerfully, taking the letter out and reading it through. It contained nothing he wasn’t already aware of, although it did refresh his memory as to what would happen next. “They’ll be here by five tomorrow. You might want to take the boards off the fireplace; they’re going to be Flooing here.”

“Flooing?”

“It’s transportation by fire,” Harry explained, eating the last of his grapefruit and ignoring the flinches the Dursleys gave at his tactless description. He levitated his plates into the kitchen sink and stood up, taking the letter as he did. “I’ll be up in my room.”

When he opened the door to his room, Harry instantly found himself ducking as a small ball of feathers accosted him. Snatching the tiny owl out of the air with the skill of a Seeker, Harry made sure to relieve Pigwidgeon, better known as Pig, of his burden. “I would assume that you’ve already made yourself at home, Pig.”

Pig gave several excited hoots and began flying in excited circles again. He was eyed disgustedly by Hedwig, Harry’s snowy white owl.

Harry smiled fondly at her, not having seen her since her death that fateful night so many years ago…or three years in the future if he wanted to be technical. He stroked her feathers lovingly, earning him a curious eye from his familiar. “I’ve missed you, Hedwig. I know it’s only been a day since you last saw me, but for me it’s been years and years. You were my only owl, you know.”

Hedwig gave him an affectionate nip on the finger before returning to her previous occupation: eyeing Pig with all the disgust that a mature owl could dredge up.

“He  _is_  hyperactive, isn’t he?” Harry asked, chuckling. He opened the letter Pig had brought and read it through swiftly. Since it said exactly the same thing it had said last time, he jotted off a quick reply and gave it to Pig, who was so excited that Harry had trouble fastening the letter to his leg. “Hold still, you blasted bird…” Within half a minute, Harry had managed to fasten the letter and Pig gave one last excited hoot before bolting out the window. Harry gave the disappearing fleck in the sky an amused look before turning his attention to his trunk.

“We’ll be off to the Weasleys tomorrow,” Harry informed Hedwig, flicking his wand and unpacking the entire trunk.

He Vanished old and moldy parchment papers, candy wrappers, and a couple of bad socks that were so smelly he couldn’t even consider wearing them. A particularly knobby pair that he had been using for a Sneakoscope was Vanished so quickly Harry didn’t even blink. When that was done, he sorted through the old school robes he had outgrown and packed them into the wardrobe. His old spell books went into a corner of the room, where he promptly placed a powerful Notice-Me-Not Charm on them to ensure that no one would find them.

When his trunk was entirely cleaned out, Harry began packing everything into it – very neatly as he now appreciated the value of nice clothes and good cauldrons. He handled his Firebolt – a gift from his godfather – very carefully before placing it on top of everything else. The Cloak of Invisibility he considered for a moment before placing it on his bed; he then shut the trunk and picked his father’s cloak up.

Here was one of the Deathly Hallows. It was the only one he had kept following the battle in his seventh year. He’d left it behind before Severus and he had gone to the Department of Mysteries. He already knew several spells of invisibility, although none were as powerful as the cloak was now that he knew how to fully utilize its power. Not even Alastor Moody’s magical eye would be able to see through its material if Harry had it on.

Brushing his fingers along the runes sown into the silky material, Harry drew it around him, molding the magic so that just the cloak was invisible but not himself. It would be handy in a fight. Although still a Gryffindor at heart, he was by now more Slytherin in nature and was fully aware of the value of retreating if a fight was lost.

He’d saved many lives with that mindset, although it hadn’t helped in the last years as the casualties had racked up.

Eyes momentarily darkening, Harry had to shake himself and push those memories behind strong shields. Following Voldemort’s second return, he’d finally learned Occlumency from Severus and Legilimency to boot. Although nowhere near as proficient as Severus in Occlumency, Harry knew enough to block out Voldemort’s general probes and how to close his mental connection off so as not to receive any visions.

With this thought in mind, Harry lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. He had some planning to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIWIZARD CUP! 8D Chapters get longer after this one.  
> As always, feedback is love. <3


	3. The Quidditch World Cup -- Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry experiences the Quidditch World Cup...again.

At a quarter to five the next day, Harry was comfortably ensconced in an armchair and idly twirling his wand in his fingers. His trunk lay by his feet and Hedwig’s empty cage was right by it. He had already sent her off to the Burrow as she didn’t need to be traumatized by his ungraceful ability to Floo.

Vernon and Petunia were the only two there and sitting stiffly on the couch, warily watching their nephew play with his wand. Dudley was hiding in his room as Harry had let slip several different times that two of the Weasleys were tricksters and prone to nasty pranks that even Muggles wouldn’t be free from.

Lost in thought, Harry ran over what he had managed to plan during the rest of the day yesterday. First, he had checked his connection with the Dark Lord. As expected, he was active and in an infant’s body: Pettigrew had already made his way to his lord and performed one of the rituals necessary to return Voldemort to power.

The one thing that worried him about the connection was the small tugging he’d felt as he joined minds. He’d never felt that before and he had a nasty suspicion as to what it could entail. But since nothing had happened, he let it go and returned to his own mind.

Following that little adventure, Harry had redone all his homework with a small spell he’d picked up from Hermione that inscribed his thoughts to parchment. He was particularly meticulous when it came to Potions, as it wouldn’t do to make a bad impression.

Of course, considering Severus’s current attitude towards a certain Harry James Potter, it wouldn’t do much good. He would just think that Harry had cheated and give him a D even though Harry had incorporated many of Severus’s own tips.

After packing his homework away, Harry had promptly Apparated to Diagon Alley, disguised himself, and gone to purchase a wand holster. He’d outgrown the days of sticking his wand in a back pocket and would need a way to access his wand quickly and easily in case of fights. Furthermore, he didn’t plan on anyone filching his wand this time around.

Once back at Privet Drive, Harry had embroiled himself in the task of warding the house against all Death Eaters (except Severus) and Voldemort himself. During the process, he realized something that he probably should have noticed earlier but had been too busy to: His magical core was significantly larger than it used to be.

Upon reflection of this discovery, Harry figured that his old core from the future had merged with that of fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, thus increasing his core’s strength. He suspected that when this body reached its majority, his core would be twice that of what it had been in the future. More, in fact, if he continued to take care of his body properly and not overstrain himself.

When the warding had been taken care of, Harry had gone back into the house for a snack. Then he’d begun to plan what to do with the Horcruxes.

Really, Harry figured, he couldn’t do anything until back at Hogwarts. He could control Fiendfyre just as well as Voldemort could (he  _had_  to considering what they’d faced in the future), but it was still too dangerous. What he needed were the basilisk fangs from the Chamber of Secrets.

Once he was armed and had the right amount of time at his hands, he would be able to begin hunting down the Horcruxes. The first on the list was Ravenclaw’s diadem, as that was the most easily accessible in the Room of Requirement. After that, he would take the Horcruxes as they came; he was thankful that the diary was gone, as that was one of the most troublesome ones. That simply left Hufflepuff’s cup as the most difficult to obtain…if it even was in Bellatrix’s vault at this point.

When the clock finally struck five, Vernon and Petunia straightened expectantly and looked over to the fireplace. Harry slipped his wand into the holster and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

When five minutes passed and no one came in, something was beginning to nag Harry at the back of his mind. Five minutes later and he ignored the increasingly impatient Dursleys in favor of figuring out what it was. At quarter past, Harry thought he had it: the Weasleys had been late before!

“They’ll be slightly late,” he informed Vernon. “They have to connect the house to the Floo Network.”

Vernon reddened but said nothing, still mindful of the fact that his nephew had no qualms about performing magic outside of school.

“Will they expect tea?” Petunia ventured to ask hesitantly.

Harry stared at her for a second or two before remembering that he’d already changed things and so shouldn’t expect the same things, like Petunia’s inhospitality the first time around. “No. We’ll be leaving immediately.”

With that said, another uncomfortable silence came into being. Harry didn’t mind seeing as how his friends would be coming at half past five. He just had to remember to address Arthur as Mr. Weasley.

However, when half past five came and went, Harry realized he’d forgotten something else. This time, it only took him a minute of staring at the fireplace before he remembered.

Snorting in self-deprecation and alarming his aunt and uncle, Harry stood up and flicked his wand into his hand. He’d forgotten to take the wards off the Floo Network. Paranoia could really be a bitch at times.

He gave his wrist a quick circular movement and drew his wand to the side as if pulling off a blanket. A golden mist came off the fireplace. After making sure it would attach itself again after ten minutes, Harry let the ward go and stepped back as the electric fireplace suddenly flared green.

Petunia gave an undignified shriek as a figure stepped out, revealing the familiar visage of George Weasley. “Hullo, Harry!” he said cheerfully, grinning.

His twin stepped out five seconds later, an identical grin on his face. “All right?”Fred Weasley asked.

Harry had to stop himself from running over and giving both of them a huge hug. He simply settled for a beaming smile. “Brilliant, Fred, thanks.” As the fireplace flared green again, Harry asked, “You didn’t have any trouble, did you?”

This time it was Ronald Weasley who stepped out, giving his best mate a broad grin. “Hiya, Harry! Hope you’re doing all right!”

Unlike with the twins, Harry had to consciously restrain himself from startling Ron with an overemotional display. “Hey, Ron.”

By that time, Vernon and Petunia were sufficiently frightened enough that they hadn’t budged from their position on the couch. When the fireplace flared green a fourth and final time, they didn’t even blink as a tall, thin, and balding man in shabby looking robes stepped through.

“So sorry, Harry!” Arthur Weasley was saying, brushing the soot off his clothes.”We had to connect the house to the Floo Network but it was giving us problems. Everything’s all right, isn’t it?”

“Hi, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, grinning at the welcome sight of his best mate’s dad. “Everything’s fine. I was just asking Fred here what was up.”

“Nothing important, of course,” Fred quipped.

Arthur had by now noticed the still petrified Vernon and Petunia. “Ah…and this must be your aunt and uncle, Harry?”

“Yes. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. My cousin’s upstairs.”

Arthur seemed slightly perplexed at the fact that neither Vernon nor Petunia was greeting him but shrugged it off. “Pleasure to meet you two. Now, Harry, you have your trunk?”

“Right here.” Harry kicked the side of the trunk that was lying by his feet. “I’ve got Hedwig’s cage, too. Is she already at the Burrow?”

“Arrived before we left,” Ron assured him. “Pig – the owl I sent you earlier – is driving her mad.”

“Excitable little fellow, isn’t he?” Harry asked, giving the trunk to Fred to Floo with. George was left with Hedwig’s cage. “I was wondering, who named him Pig?”

“Ginny,” Ron said with disgust. “His real name is Pigwidgeon but he only answers to Pig. That’s the last time I ever let  _her_  name an owl.”

Harry had to stifle a laugh but did let a grin slip. Oh, he’d missed this. This wasn’t his Ron by stretch of the means, but it was his  _old_  Ron, the one he remembered from Hogwarts. The war had changed all of them, but he was glad that he was the only one that was impossibly and irreversibly jaded. Hopefully Hermione wouldn’t notice that he’d changed, but he should be able to pull off a convincing enough act.

If his plan fell through the way it should, then he wouldn’t be the only one in this soup.

“See you in a bit, Harry,” Fred said, stepping into the fireplace with a handful of Floo powder and the trunk. He let it drop to conjure a mound of green flames. “The Burrow!” With a whoosh, Fred disappeared into the bowels of the Floo Network.

George swung Hedwig’s cage around clumsily and also took a handful of Floo powder from the sack his father was holding out. He gave Harry a wink as he called “The Burrow!” and disappeared as well. Fully aware of what had just transpired, Harry wandlessly and silently Vanished the toffees George had inconspicuously – but not inconspicuously enough for Harry’s battle-honed senses – dropped. Without Arthur around, the consequences from those jinxed treats would be dastardly.

Ron had taken a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. “No Knockturn Alley this time, eh, Harry?” he teased, grinning.

Harry had no chance to reply as Ron took the moment to Floo home. He turned to his aunt and uncle, who were still silent. “See you, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia.” The two adults winced at Harry’s formal address; it was the first time since yesterday that he hadn’t just called them by name.

Harry had just grabbed a handful of powder when Arthur took hold of his shoulder; he repressed his first instinct, which was to whip out his wand and curse Arthur.

“Didn’t you hear him?” he asked. “He said goodbye.”

“It’s all right, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, trying to pull away. He had to quiet his instincts, which were telling him to flip the kindly man on his back.

“Aren’t you going to tell him goodbye?”Arthur insisted.

Vernon’s face tensed, but he bit out a curt “Goodbye.”

“Have fun,” Petunia ventured hesitantly, earning herself an incredulous stare from her nephew.

“There now,” Arthur said pleasantly, finally releasing Harry’s shoulder. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Brilliant,” Harry muttered, hastily stepping into the fireplace; he took his glasses off and tucked them away. He dropped the powder and clearly enunciated, “The Burrow!”

Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Harry only had two seconds worth of violent spinning before the Floo unceremoniously spit him out at the other end in a shower of soot. Coughing, Harry slammed his glasses on and rolled to his feet, just quelling the reflex that told him to draw his wand.

“Bugger,” he muttered, realizing he couldn’t see squat out of his sooty glasses.

He’d just taken them off again when he was enveloped in a huge hug courtesy of Molly Weasley. “Harry, how lovely to see you!”

Harry stiffened before he could help the reaction, his blurry eyesight only showing a huge figure enveloping him. Fortunately for Molly, he didn’t flick his wand out, although it was a very close call.

For her part, Molly didn’t say anything. “You poor dear… Let me take care of that.  _Scourgify_.”

Relieved, Harry placed his squeaky clean glasses on his nose. “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”

“You all right, mate?” Ron asked. “It looked like a rough ride.”

“Floos hate me,” Harry said, shrugging. He suspected it was because of his magic, but he didn’t think Voldemort had the same issues. But then, he couldn’t even  _imagine_  Voldemort considering Flooing in the first place.

At that moment, Arthur made his arrival. “Harry arrive in one piece?” His eyebrows rose upon seeing how sooty Harry was. “I thought I cleaned the fireplace.”

“You did,” another red-haired Weasley chimed in. Harry recognized him as Bill Weasley.

“It’s not you, Mr. Weasley, it’s me,” Harry confirmed. He promptly found himself under another Cleaning Charm from Molly and sneezed as the soot vanished from his clothes. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem at all, Harry,” Molly said kindly. “Now, why don’t you let Ron show you to your room? I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

Harry nodded and followed his friend up the stairs, saying hello to Charlie Weasley, who was sitting next to his brother at the kitchen table.

“You’ll be staying in my room again,” Ron told him. “Bill and Charlie – my older brothers – are here, too, as you saw in the kitchen, meaning Fred and George are rooming with us. Hermione arrived yesterday and she’s already harping on whether I’ve finished my homework!”

Harry honestly couldn’t help it: a huge grin split his face. “Isn’t it already August? Term starts up first of September.”

“Yeah, but that’s the  _point_!” Ron said indignantly. “Don’t tell me you’ve already finished!”

“All right,” Harry said agreeably. “I won’t.”

“You won’t what?”

“Tell you I’ve already finished,” Harry responded with a straight face.

Before a scandalized Ron could reply, a bushy-haired witch rushed to hug a startled Harry, who once again had to restrain himself from drawing his wand at the unexpected contact. “Harry!” Hermione Granger drew back to beam at her friend. “It’s so good to see you again!”

“You, too, Hermione,” Harry said, his face relaxing into a soft smile as he looked at the impossibly young face of one of his closest friends.

_“No, Hermione!”_

_“The building’s gone up in flames, Ron. We can’t…we can’t do anything.”_

_“No! Harry, let me **go**!  **Hermione**!”_

Harry abruptly ejected himself from the memories, shoving them into a trunk in the deepest recesses of his Occluded mind. He was going to have to deal with the memories eventually, but now wouldn’t be a good time at all. He needed his wits about him to make sure he didn’t curse everyone who startled him. That was one thing he missed from the future: the fact that everyone was too jumpy to land unexpected hugs on their companions for fear of a wand being drawn on them.

Hermione and Ron were staring at him weirdly, and he belatedly realized that he’d been quiet for too long. Putting a cheerful smile on again, Harry moved into Ron’s room. “So, tell me what you guys have been up to so far. Summer has been  _really_  boring for me.”

* * *

Ugh, he’d forgotten how bad it would be in a place full of people. His battle-hardened senses were screaming at him to remain alert and make note of  _every bloody little thing_.

So now that their tent was completely set up and they’d explored the campsite, Harry was on edge, cranky and trying not to show it, and constantly twitching for his wand every five seconds. He was surprised no one had noticed the quick movements of his wrist as he made to release his wand from his holster only to remember in time that he really shouldn’t because there was no danger.

Yet, his instincts told him. There wasn’t any danger  _yet_.

And as Harry’s instincts were rarely wrong – aside from the years when he’d insisted that something was up with Snape (in his defense, something had been but not what he’d suspected) – he found that something dangerous  _was_  coming. That is, if danger carried the name of Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch.

With a mental grumble, Harry accepted the cup of tea Arthur gave him as he chatted with Ludo. Did he have to listen to this idiotic rambling?

“Everything all right, Harry?” Ron whispered.

“Yep.” Harry took a sip of his tea to hide the smirk that threatened to cross his face at hearing Bartemius Crouch call Percy “Weatherby.” Some things never got old regardless of how well you remembered them.

By the time Crouch and Ludo left, Harry had downed three cups of tea and had to bite his tongue a dozen times to prevent himself from bursting into inappropriate laughter. Needless to say, he needed to go to the bathroom and fix his tongue, which was feeling abused. When he returned, the Weasleys and Hermione were ready to head to the field.

On the way, Harry once again bought three pairs of Omnioculars. “Consider it an early Christmas present,” he insisted, pressing Ron’s pair into his friend’s hands.

“Thanks, Harry,” Ron said fervently, smiling.

Once they were in the stands, Harry almost found himself once again sitting by a familiar house-elf. Recognizing Winky and sensing the magic of the Death Eater hidden by her, Harry hastily switched seats with Ron, leaving the red-head to sit next to the petrified house-elf. Although he’d managed to stop himself from drawing his wand so far, sitting next to a Death Eater would be death of him if something startled him; that would be the first person he’d curse.

“Er, hello,” Ron said, squinting at the magical being who was currently hiding her face in her hands. “You all right?”

Winky looked up at Ron, surprise plastered on her face. “Young sir is asking Winky if Winky is all right?”

“Are you?”

“I is not liking heights at all but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir.” The frightened house elf looked over the Quidditch field, squeaked in terror, and hid her face in her knobby little hands.

“How cruel!” Hermione muttered, a frown marring her face.

“Bit barmy, isn’t she?” Ron asked Harry in a low voice.

“Dobby was worse,” Harry said firmly, picking up his Omnioculars to fiddle with the settings.

Over the next half hour, Harry was hard-pressed to keep his wits about him and not draw his wand as the box around them continued to fill with people. When Cornelius Fudge came up to him and shook his hand as if he was an old friend, it was all Harry could do to not hex the man where he stood.

“Harry Potter, you know,” Cornelius told the Bulgarian Minister of Magic. “ _Harry Potter_ …oh come on now, you know who he is…” When the Bulgarian minister still gave him a blank look the man said, exasperated, “The boy who survived You-Know-Who…you  _do_  know who he is—”

At that moment, the Bulgarian minister finally spotted Harry’s scar, which he had unsuccessfully tried to hide under his fringe, and pointed at it excitedly, gabbling in Bulgarian. Harry offered him a weak smile and rearranged his hair so it wouldn’t happen again. Hermione gave him a nod as he shot her a questioning glance to check if it was good.

“Knew we’d get there in the end,” Cornelius told Harry wearily, not seeing the steely glint that entered Harry’s eyes as he was forced to listen to Cornelius bluster on. “I’m no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf’s saving him a seat… Good job, too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places…ah, and here’s Lucius!”

Upon hearing that the Malfoys were here, which he’d completely forgotten about, Harry made as if he’d dropped something and hit the floor.

“You all right there, Harry?” Ron asked, perplexed.

Harry grunted to confirm that he was and pretended that what he’d dropped had rolled down the aisle. He used the opportunity to put more distance between the Dark family and himself.

Thankfully, no one else noticed that he’d disappeared and when he finally came back five minutes later, he reclaimed his seat next to Ron. “Found the ball I’d dropped,” he said, showing Ron a ball he’d Conjured for this purpose.

“You could have let me know,” Hermione said reproachfully, not believing Harry for a second. “I didn’t want to see them either!”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not a question of me not wanting to see them. It’s a question of me not wanting to see Draco before the train.”

“ _Draco_?” Ron exclaimed incredulously. “Since when is Malfoy  _Draco_?”

“Since I’ve concocted a lovely plan for him,” Harry responded with a wicked grin. “Don’t ask me what; you’ll know come September first.”

Ron eyed Harry disbelievingly, but let it drop. It was just as well as Ludo Bagman began to make his announcements.

“Ladies and gentlemen…welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

Following the routine cheering, Ludo continued to introduce the mascots of the two teams: veela and leprechauns. This time, Harry was able to sit back and enjoy the dancing of the enchanting veela; his Occlumency shields were more than strong enough to stave off their allure.

“How come you’re not affected?” Ron asked Harry peevishly after he’d been stopped from doing a swan dive off the Top Box.

“It’s not that interesting to be honest,” Harry replied. “’Sides, I like my mind right where it is, thanks.”

Ron goggled at Harry. “You’re gay?”

Harry frowned, confused. “Where’d you get  _that_  from?”

“You said it’s not interesting! What straight bloke says something like  _that_?”

“Someone sane,” Harry said dryly. “Come on, Ron. You can’t picture Se- _Snape_  acting like that, can you? And I have it on good authority that he’s completely straight.”

Ron shuddered at the mental image Harry’s words invoked. “Point taken, mate. Just don’t mention Snape and veelas in the same sentence ever again.”

Harry smirked at that (as even with years of friendship under his belt he couldn’t condone mentioning Severus and veelas in the same sentence; they just didn’t  _mix_ ).

When the leprechauns came in, he smiled at Ron as his friend tried to give him the gold. “From what I’ve read, this gold disappears after a few hours. It’s not much good. Besides, Ron, you’re my friend.”

Morose, Ron eyed the gold sadly before letting it drop to the ground with a large sigh. “How’d you know?”

“Not much else to do at the Dursleys,” Harry said. “Especially since I’ve got Sirius hanging over their heads.” He shot his friend a wink.

Ron chortled. “Good one, mate.”

As Ludo finished introducing the players, Harry sat back and watched the game. It’d been a while since he last could participate in anything even remotely fun.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw an invisible hand snitch Ron’s wand from his pocket.

A small smile flitted across his lips and he pressed the Omnioculars to his glasses. At least he hadn’t changed that much.

* * *

Following the rather surprising (to everyone else) end of the Quidditch match, Harry had gone back to the campsite and instead of partaking in the festivities where he’d be sure to draw his wand and create a large crater, he pretended to have a pounding headache and went to hide in the tent.

He knew the others would get suspicious if he kept behaving this way, but he couldn’t  _help_  it. He’d spent the better part of the last decade constantly on his guard, and some habits were too difficult to break.

Rolling onto his stomach, he listened to the loud celebrations with half an ear, part of his mind keeping track of what was good and what wasn’t; so far, everything was good.

When the Weasleys finally came in, Harry pretended to have fallen asleep. It helped that he was on the top bunk and facing the canvas of the tent. Yet his body still tensed as they moved around, excitedly discussing the match. When they climbed into bed as well, Harry rolled over onto his back and tried to get some sleep. When fighting in a war, one learned to treasure sleep and snatch it when possible.

Harry woke up first when he felt Dark Magic tinge the air. Sitting up, he slipped his glasses out from under his pillow and put them on. He checked his wand holster and made sure that his Invisibility Cloak was still exactly where he’d left it: on him. That done, he lay down and waited for Arthur to wake them up.

If it had just started, it would be a few minutes before the guard would notice anything. From there, it would be a few more minutes before the rest of the camp was alerted and the partying stopped.

Sure enough, in about ten minutes Harry could hear and feel an even more definite change in the air. By that time, Arthur was up and about and waking them up in loud shouts. “Get up! Ron – Harry – come on now, get up, this is urgent!”

Harry bolted upright, jumping down from his bed just as Ron was sleepily getting up. He grabbed his jacket and threw a befuddled Ron his own.

“Get outside!” Arthur urged.

Harry wasted no time in obeying, pushing out of the tent with his friend on his heels. When he did, he simply glanced over the carnage that was laid out before him and turned to his shell-shocked friend.

At fourteen, Harry had been shocked and horrified at seeing Muggles being tortured by Death Eaters having the time of their lives. Now, as a weary war veteran, Harry could scan the scene with an impassive eye and not blink even as his mind was calculating odds and battle plans at a breakneck speed.

Upon seeing that Ron had turned ashen, Harry flicked his eyes back to the scene to see that one of the Muggle children was spinning like a top.

“That’s sick. That is really sick…” Ron muttered, looking green.

Harry watched Hermione and Ginny approach them with coats over their nightclothes. At the same time, Bill, Charlie, and Percy came from the tent he and Ron had vacated with their regular clothes on and wands out.

“We’re going to help the Ministry!” Arthur shouted to the Hogwarts-aged wizards and witches. “You lot – get into the woods, and  _stick together_. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

At that, the eldest Weasleys dashed off to face the marching Death Eaters. Harry spared them a calculating glance and then turned to his friends; his attention was needed elsewhere to make sure that nothing happened.

“C’mon,” Fred said, grabbing Ginny by the hand and hauling her off toward the wood.

Harry trudged off after them, glancing over his shoulder to check that his friends and George were following.

By the time they reached the trees, Harry had flicked his wand into his hand and was twitching nervously. There were far too many people here; he’d already had to bite his tongue a total of three times to stop himself from cursing them into oblivion. That hadn’t stopped his wand from firing errant red and purple sparks, making the people around give them a wide berth.

Harry twisted to the side, pressing against Hermione as a crowd of people surged past them. “ _R_ -bloody hell,” he panted, almost casting a  _Reducto_. He forcefully drew his magic into himself and tried to strengthen his Occlumency barriers; it was the only thing keeping his reflexes even remotely dampened.

“Gah!” Ron let out a yell of pain and a loud thud.

“What happened?” Hermione asked anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry almost walked into her. “Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid –  _Lumos_!” A bright silver light sparked from the tip of her wand to illuminate Ron sprawled on the ground.

“Tripped over a tree root,” Ron explained angrily, getting to his feet.

“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” said a familiar drawling voice from behind them.

Harry stiffened at the sound of Draco Malfoy’s voice and quickly stepped behind Hermione, flicking the hood of his Invisibility Cloak over his head as he did. Bugger…yet  _another_ thing he’d completely forgotten. Twisting his magic and that of the cloak’s, Harry made himself invisible in the blink of an eye.

That done, he turned to see Draco leaning against a tree and looking completely relaxed and like a complete prat. He’d forgotten this unfortunate tendency of Draco.

Ron told Draco something that Molly would have scolded him furiously for.

“Language, Weasley,” Draco said, pale eyes glittering. “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn’t like  _her_  spotted, would you?” He nodded at Hermione to show whom he meant.

A blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite and a flash of green lit the area around them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione demanded.

“Granger, they’re after  _Muggles_ ,” Draco said. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around…they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.” That said, he scanned Hermione and Ron and raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Where’s your precious Potter?”

“Right here, Malfoy,” Ron snarled, whipping around to where Harry had last been standing when visible. He was still standing there but was just invisible. “What? Harry?”

“Oops,” Draco said, not sounding anxious at all. “Looks like you’ve lost him.”

“We didn’t lose him!” Ron snapped, whirling back to glare at Draco. “He was right here, I swear!”

“Calm down, Ron,” Hermione urged, scanning the area where Harry was standing to no avail.

“Yes, do calm down, Weasley,” Draco drawled. “Wouldn’t want them to hear you scream and come running only to find a Mudblood here, would you?”

“You watch your mouth!” Ron growled, blue eyes flashing with rage.

Hermione snapped her attention back to the oncoming fight and seized Ron by the arms. “Never mind, Ron. Let’s find Harry.”

Draco smirked and turned his attention back to the sickening festivities. “Good luck…seeing as how you’ll need every last bit of it to keep safe.”

It was only Hermione’s quick reaction that prevented Ron from lunging and jumping on Draco. As it was, Harry had to grab Ron by the collar of his jacket and pull him backwards into the trees, out of sight of Draco.

“Hermione, let  _go_!” Ron demanded, twisting around and out of Harry’s grip.

“I’m not touching you, Ron!”

“Then who?” Ron suspiciously scanned the air.

Harry flipped the hood of the cloak off, becoming visible once more. “It was me.”

Hermione blinked, startled. “What were you  _doing_ , Harry?”

Harry shrugged, twisting the cloak’s magic again so it would turn invisible again. “Like I said before, I don’t want to talk to him until we’re on the train.”

“Blimey, mate! You could’ve warned us!” Ron snapped. “We thought we’d gone and left you!”

“You didn’t.” Harry glanced around and realized that they were the only three, just like last time. “But the others did back in that mess.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the camp.”It looks like we’ll have to try and find them.”

Ron still looked furious. “I’ll bet you anything Malfoy’s dad is one of that masked lot!”

“And if he is, so what?” Harry asked wearily, keeping his voice low so as not to attract attention from the people milling on the path. “It’s Lucius Malfoy; there’s no way the Ministry is going to do anything to  _him_  unless he’s caught red handed.”

“With any luck, the Ministry will do that!” Hermione said fervently. “Oh I can’t believe this. Where have the others got to?”

“They can’t have gone far,” Ron said, stepping to the side of the path to avoid a large crowd of people.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Harry whispered, lighting his wand as well. He kept the spell at low power to mimic Hermione’s. “Perhaps not, Ron, but we’re going to have trouble finding them.”

Ron shoved his hand into his jacket pocket. Face morphing into a perplexed expression, he moved to the other pocket. Then, with increasing panic, he began to rummage around his person frantically.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked.

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars. “I can’t believe it! I’ve lost my wand!” he moaned.

“You’re joking!” Hermione gasped. She waved her wand around to light the area around them but there was no sign of Ron’s wand. “How could you  _lose_  it?”

“Maybe it’s back in the tent,” Harry suggested, knowing full well it was not.

“Did it fall out of your pocket while we were running?”

“I don’t know,” Ron moaned, putting the Omnioculars back into the jacket. “All I know is that Mum and Dad are going to  _kill_  me when they find out. That wand was expensive!”

“It’ll turn up,” Harry said comfortingly. His own wand had.

“Will it?” Ron mumbled something else under his breath, rubbing a hand over his face.

Harry didn’t say anything else as he knew nothing could comfort a wizard who had just lost his wand…his safeguard against dangerous things. His own wand was a part of his body by this time even though he was proficient at wandless magic. If he lost it, he wouldn’t feel whole until finding it again.

The trio was distracted from their conundrum as a rustling noise came from a nearby bush.

Reflexively, Harry cast a silent  _Incendio_  before he could stop himself, the tingling of a Dark Mark nearby and the stress of the day causing him to lose control. Luckily, he redirected his wand at the last moment so the flames hit a tree rather than the bushes. The sudden outbreak of fire caused a nearby witch to shriek in terror before she hastily doused the flames.

Hermione gave Harry a curious look. “All right, Harry?”

“Just jumpy,” he said, grinning nervously. “I don’t know what happened.”

Further conversation was halted with the appearance of Winky fighting her way out of the bushes Harry had almost put on fire. It looked like something invisible was trying to hold her back.

“There is bad wizards about!” she squeaked as she tried to keep running. “People high – high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!”

Without another word, Winky continued struggling onwards into the trees on the other side of the path.

Wand forgotten for the moment, Ron stared curiously after her. “What’s up with her? Why can’t she run properly?”

“She probably didn’t ask her master for permission to hide,” Harry offered, remembering he’d said pretty much the same thing last time.

“You know, house-elves get a  _very_  raw deal!” Hermione started indignantly. “It’s slavery, that’s what it is! That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he’s got her bewitched so she can’t even run when start trampling tents! Why doesn’t anyone  _do_  something about it?”

“Well, the elves are happy, aren’t they?” Ron said. “You heard old Winky back at the match… She was there even though she was scared stiff…that’s what she likes, being bossed around…”

Seeing that the fight wouldn’t be going anywhere, Harry jumped in before Hermione could retort. “Hermione, I know Dobby was a bit of an oddball when it comes to house-elves. Winky’s more of the norm, I think, and you really should do some more research before getting on a stance. At least check your facts and make sure that the house-elves have a problem with being ‘enslaved’ before you do anything crazy like setting up some organization called spew or whatnot.”

“Spew?  _Spew_? Who’d name an organization  _spew_?” Ron spluttered.

Hermione, of course. Harry recalled Hermione’s S.P.E.W. campaign with a small shudder. If she did start it up again, he hoped she would take a different name.  _No one_  was attracted to an organization that gave the impression of someone throwing up.

Another bang sounded from the campsite and Harry jumped about a foot in the air, wand tense and at the ready.

Ron eyed him strangely but didn’t comment, although Hermione pursed her lips.

“Let’s just go, all right?” Harry said nervously, not wanting to be around these people longer than necessary before he lost it.

Without another word, thy set off deeper into the trees, coming across some goblins and a group of veela, where Ron promptly embarrassed himself horribly.

“ _Honestly_!” Hermione scoffed, hauling Ron off with Harry’s help.

By the time they were out of sight of the veela, everything was much quieter and Harry had finally relaxed marginally. The company of his two best friends and not a bunch of strangers did wonders, although he still didn’t drop his guard entirely. His senses were picking up Dark Magic all around him, and he knew Bartemius Crouch Jr. wasn’t far off: He could sense the Dark Mark.

“We can probably stay here for right now,” Ron said, ears still pink from his earlier embarrassment. “We’ll hear anyone coming a mile off.”

As if to prove him wrong, Ludo Bagman suddenly tumbled out from behind a tree directly in front of them. Before he could stop himself, Harry had bound the man in ropes. A second later he was silently cursing himself for his silent casting but made as if he was completely boggled by what had just happened.

“So sorry, Mr. Bagman!” he gabbled, pretending to fumble around for the counter. “Sorry! Er…what was it again? Oh right!  _Finite_!”

The ropes disappeared and Ludo climbed to his feet, warily eyeing Harry and his trigger-happy wand. “What are you doing here, all alone?”

Although they’d been warily eyeing their friend, Hermione and Ron turned to stare at Ludo in surprise.

“Well – there’s a sort of riot going on,” Ron said.

Ludo didn’t seem to comprehend him. “What?”

“At the campsite…some people have got hold of a family of Muggles…”

Ludo swore loudly, stepped back hastily from Harry as if remembering what had happened earlier, and turned around to Disapparate with a small popping sound.

“Kind of distracted, isn’t he?” Harry asked weakly, hoping they wouldn’t ask him about his earlier reaction. He could always put a Memory Charm on them, but he didn’t want to since they were his best friends.

“What was that about, Harry?” Hermione demanded, rounding on him.

Harry shrugged nervously. “I don’t know. Honestly, I just reacted.”

“Aren’t you a bit old for accidental magic?” Ron asked.

“I blew up my aunt last year,” Harry said, glad he remembered this tidbit so vividly.

Ron didn’t let the matter drop. “Yeah, but that was  _last year_.”

“I don’t know!” Harry said defensively. “It just happened, all right? I can’t help if my wand suddenly reacts without me—” A sudden snapping sound was heard as a twig broke and he whirled around at the sound, wand up at the ready. “Who’s there?” he demanded, voice hard.

Ron and Hermione pressed against his back, listening carefully. It sounded like someone was staggering around their clearing.

“I’m warning you right now,” Harry said loudly, taking a step forward and strengthening the light of his wand, “I don’t play nice.”

There was a short pause before the air was rent by a shout that sounded a spell. “ _MORSMORDRE_!”

Things happened very quickly then.

Just as something vast, green, and glittering emerged from the patch of darkness Harry’s  _Lumos_  spell had been piercing, Harry fired a Stunning Spell into the darkness and knew he’d made contact. He was running solely on instincts at the moment and reacted as such to stop Ron from running off the way he would so often during the war.

“What the—?” Ron gasped, not resisting Harry’s death grip on his jacket. He was staring up at the thing that had appeared above their heads.

Harry didn’t have to look to know what was floating above their heads: the sinister Dark Mark, eerily grinning with a serpent’s tongue. It was the image that haunted his nightmares.

And the nightmares of everyone else around them as the woods erupted with screams.

Suddenly, he snapped back to himself and realized that he wasn’t fighting a war and that he really should be acting more like a fourteen-year-old wizard scared out of his mind instead of a battle-hardened thirty-year-old.

“Let’s go!” he said, pulling Ron with him in the opposite direction. “Whoever did it isn’t someone we should meet at the moment!”

Hermione had other things on her mind. “You fired a Stunning Spell into there!”

“Come  _on_!” Harry grabbed her, too, not believing that she was more concerned with his spell casting than with what was floating over their heads. “I thought you all of people would recognize that sign!”

“Of course I do!” Hermione sounded scandalized. “It’s You-Know-Who’s sign: the Dark Mark!”

That said, the three began to hurry across the clearing when the sound of over a dozen popping noises filled the clearing around them. Harry hit the ground before he could think, pulling his friends down with him and casting a shield charm for good measure.

“ _STUPEFY_!” twenty voices roared and twenty blinding flashes of red soared over the three friends’ heads, glancing off the shield Harry had erected.

He promptly dropped it so as not to arouse suspicion and looked up, seeing the red spells bounce all over the place. Idly, he thought that he really should find a way to recreate the phenomenon in case of sticky situations.

A familiar voice broke the air at that moment. “Stop! STOP!  _That’s my son_!”

Harry looked to see the wizard in front of him dropping his wand and Arthur striding into the clearing, terror plastered all over his face.

“Ron – Harry – Hermione – are you all right?”

“Out of the way, Arthur,” Crouch’s voice said coldly.

Harry leapt to his feet, trying not to assume a battle ready stance as he did. The negative energy from the wizards around him was putting him on edge and he wished that they would just  _back off_.

Crouch approached them, fury written all over his countenance. “Which of you did it?” he snapped. “Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?”

Harry managed to give his tone the proper tone of bewilderment and fear. “What do you mean? We didn’t do that!” He pointed up to the Mark still illuminating the night sky. “We don’t even know  _how_!”

“We didn’t do anything!” Ron agreed, brushing off the dirt that had accumulated on his clothes. “What did you want to attack us for?”

“Do not lie, sir!” Crouch shouted, pointing his wand directly at Ron; Harry’s wand hand twitched and he had to put his other hand on it to stop himself from disarming the irate man. “You were found at the scene of the crime!”

“Barty,” a witch whispered, “they’re kids, Barty, they’d never have been able to—”

“Where did the Mark come from, you three?” Arthur asked hastily.

“Over there,” Harry said promptly, glad to have something to do other than restrain himself from cursing Crouch. He pointed in the right direction. “I saw a couple of Stunners go in that direction. Someone was walking around and they shouted an incantation.”

“Oh, stood over there, did they?” Crouch turned his attention on Harry now and didn’t seem to register the hostility emanating from the younger wizard. “Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, mister…”

Harry raised an eyebrow in polite disbelief. “It’s called reading, sir,” he said coolly.

“Harry,” Hermione said chidingly, shoving his elbow.

“He’s acting like a git,” Harry hissed, moving his elbow out of the way to avoid hexing her.

Thankfully, none of the other Ministry wizards were paying any attention in favor of pointing their wands in the direction Harry had pointed.

“We’re too late,” said the witch, shaking her head. “They’ll have Disapparated.”

“I don’t think so,” another wizard by the name of Amos Diggory disagreed. “Like the boy said, our Stunners went right through those trees… There’s a good chance we got them…” With this thought, Amos went marching into the trees.

Even if their Stunners hadn’t done the trick, Harry’s definitely had. Now Crouch would have no choice but to sack Winky, keeping everything right on track.

Within a few seconds, Amos let out a shout. “Yes! We got them! There’s someone here! Unconscious! It’s – but – blimey…”

“You’ve got someone?” Crouch shouted back, sounding disbelieving. “Who? Who is it?”

As Harry expected, when Amos returned it was with Winky in tow. Amos deposited the unconscious house-elf in front of her stunned master, who proceeded to stare at her in apparent disbelief for a few more seconds.

“This – cannot – be,” he said jerkily. “No—” Determined, he marched off into the bushes again to perform his own inspection.

In due time, Crouch returned empty-handed, although Harry knew he’d found the Stunned body of his son in those trees. Now it just remained to be seen how events would pan out.

When they found the wand – which Harry recognized as Ron’s – in Winky’s grasp, they were joined by Ludo, who was still rather behind on events. Winky was then revived and burst into terrified sobs upon realizing what had transpired.

“Elf!” Amos said sternly. “Do you know who I am? I’m a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!”

Harry swallowed as he watched Winky rock back and forth in her breakdown. He tuned out most of the questions, not needing to hear it again.

His attention snapped back to focus when he heard Ron exclaim, “Hey – that’s mine!”

All the wizards looked at Ron incredulously.

“Excuse me?” Amos demanded.

“That’s my wand! I dropped it earlier!” Ron stared at it in disbelief. “How’d  _she_  get it?”

Amos stared at him in disbelief. “You  _dropped_  it? You mean to say that you threw it aside after you conjured the Dark Mark?”

“Amos, that’s my son you’re talking to!” Arthur said angrily. “Do you think we teach our  _children_  how to conjure Dark Marks when they’re growing up?”

“Er, of course not,” Amos mumbled, seeming properly chastised. “Sorry…carried away…”

“I lost it before we came into the woods anyway,” Ron said firmly. “But how’d Winky get it?”

Amos demanded that of Winky. “Well, elf, where’d you find this wand? Did you think you could just pick it up and have some fun with it?”

“I is not doing magic with it, sir!” Winky denied, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. “I is…I is…I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!”

“It wasn’t her!” Hermione protested rather nervously. “Winky’s got a squeaky little voice and the voice we heard the incantation was much deeper.” She looked pleadingly at her friends for support. “It didn’t sound anything like Winky, did it?”

Although he knew it wouldn’t do any good, Harry added his two cents. “No. It wasn’t Winky.”

“It was a human voice,” Ron agreed.

“Well, we’ll soon see,” Amos growled. “There’s a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?”

Winky shook her head so that her big ears flapped around. Amos pressed the tip of his wand against that of Ron’s, saying loudly, “ _Prior Incantato_!”

A large smoky skull emerged from the tip of Ron’s wand, causing Hermione to gasp loudly before Amos canceled the spell with a low “ _Deletrius_.”

Harry placed a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder as the situation around them degraded to shouts and violent disagreements. It finally culminated as Crouch sacked Winky by promising her clothes.

Hermione couldn’t stand watching Winky degrade herself even further by sobbing onto Crouch’s shoes. She burst out angrily, “But she was frightened! Your elf’s scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people! You can’t blame her for wanting to get out of their way!”

Crouch stepped back from Winky as if she was contaminating him. “I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me,” he informed Hermione coldly. “I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master’s reputation.”

Winky continued crying loudly into the silence.

Finally, Arthur looked over at them and said quietly, “Well, I think I’ll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody’s got any objections. Amos, that wand’s told us all it can – if Ron could have it back, please—”

Amos handed the wand over to Ron, who handled it carefully before pocketing it securely in his jacket.

“Come on, you three,” Arthur bade the three wizards.

As Hermione wasn’t moving, Harry gently took her by the elbow and led her away.

“What’s going to happen to Winky?” Hermione asked Harry in a low voice.

“She’s sacked,” Harry said quietly, not glancing back at the clearing. “She’ll find another job somewhere.”

“You’re not  _horrified_  about what just happened?” Hermione demanded indignantly. “They were treating her like she wasn’t human! Like she didn’t have feelings. The way they kept calling her ‘ _elf_ ’’!” She gave a shudder of disgust.

“Of course I’m disgusted by it!” Harry said sharply. “But you have to know, Hermione, she  _isn’t_  human. She’s a house-elf and that makes all the difference to wizards like those behind us. If you do carry on this campaign, you’re going to have to be prepared to meet a lot of roadblocks. If anything, you should really wait and do more research.”

“But—”

“I know you want to help. And don’t get me wrong – it’s a good thing! But you’re going about it the wrong way. You have a stance; now find the evidence to support it. Once you do, you’ll be able to do something about it.”

Hermione frowned and opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by Arthur. “What happened to the others?”

“We lost them in the dark,” Ron answered. “Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?”

“I’ll explain everything back at the tent,” Arthur said tensely.

Ron stared at his father’s back in dismay but turned to Harry as his friend tugged on his sleeve. “It’s the Dark Mark, Ron. You really don’t know what it is?”

“No. Should I?”

“It’s Voldemort’s”—Ron and Hermione gave identical flinches and Harry suppressed an irritated sigh—‘sign. It was all over the place when he was up and about; wherever the Death Eaters struck they put that sign up. It was the ultimate nightmare…to find that  _thing_  hovering over the place you lived…not knowing what you’d find inside…” Harry’s eyes darkened as he fell into memories better left forgotten.

Hermione and Ron shot each other confused looks but didn’t bother their friend. They couldn’t since they were in the camp and being accosted by a crowd of people.

Jolting out of his memories, Harry started at the surge and stopped himself from raising his wand. Taking a deep calming breath, he carefully Occluded and subdued his reaction times to a tenth of what they should be. That was as much as he could do without seeming completely slow and stupid.

When they got back to the tent, Harry snagged a chair and took a seat, resting his head in his hands. His wand was back in the holster. There was no danger at the moment and he knew he could trust the people around him; the problem was convincing his subconscious mind that the noise wasn’t a problem.

As the Weasleys and Hermione discussed and debated house-elves and the Dark Mark, Harry realized that this year wouldn’t be as easy as he’d initially thought it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is taken from the book, though I have put a unique spin on some of the stuff. It'll branch out more once I get into juicier bits.  
> BTW, kudos are nice and all (really, they are! I love that you're reading this!) but I like to hear from my readers. What did you like? What didn't you like? What do you think will happen next? What evil plan has Harry concocted for Draco? What will he do when it comes to Severus?  
> *nudge, nudge*


	4. Back to Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes back to Hogwarts, and enacts his evil plan for poor, unsuspecting Draco Malfoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention when I posted the other chapter that from here on out, the story will take a specific format. Look at the dates I've posted at the beginning of each section for an explanation.

**May 2, 1998**

“Harry! Harry, wait up!”

Harry kept trudging along the path under the Whomping Willow, bundling up his Invisibility Cloak and stashing it under his robes as he did.

Hermione caught up with him. “Where are you going?”

Ron fell into step at his other side. “Everyone else’s at the castle.”

Harry replied curtly, “The Shrieking Shack.”

“The Shrieking Shack?” Ron asked, perplexed. “Why – oh…” His voice drifted off as he realized why.

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione didn’t quite seem to know what to say. “For Snape?”

“Yeah,” said Harry soberly. “I can’t just  _leave_  him there. Besides, I have this strange feeling…”

“What kind of feeling?” Ron asked, alarmed.

“It’s funny. It’s almost like something’s…like something’s telling me he’s still  _alive_.”

“Harry,” Hermione said worriedly, “we  _saw_  him die. You aren’t honestly—”

“I know!” Harry snapped. “But I can’t help what I’m feeling! And so I’m going back, even though I would’ve done it anyway. He doesn’t deserve to stay there, in that miserable shack.”

“What was in those memories?” Ron asked.

Harry shook his head, feeling the vial of memories in his pocket like a lead weight. “It’s not my business to say, Ron. I’ll have to eventually so his name can be cleared but for now…”

“We understand,” Hermione said gently. “We’ll help you, too, you know. Neville’s told me some of what happened, and I know that if Snape hadn’t been Headmaster things would’ve been a lot worse.”

“He swore to protect them –  _us_ ,” Harry said quietly. “Even though we all hated him, he didn’t waver from that promise.” He looked at Hermione seriously in the light of his wand; the silvery light cast his green eyes in an eerie perspective. “We’re going to need more testimony like that of Neville’s. You know what the Ministry’s like,” he said bitterly.

Ron chortled at that. “Yeah, but, Harry, you’re forgetting: you’re the  _Boy Who Defeated You-Know-Who_. If that doesn’t get you  _something_  to clear Snape with, I’ll eat my hat.”

“He’s got a point, Harry,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “It might not help five or ten years down the road – we know it didn’t two years ago – but it’ll definitely help now.”

Harry gave a short laugh. “Good to know my fame will do  _someone_  some good. It sure didn’t do me any.”

At that point, Harris reached the entryway to the Shrieking Shack. Rather apprehensive now, he slowly opened the door and stepped into the small shack.

“ _Still alive…still alive…_ ” something whispered to him.

Looking at the pale bloody body of his former Potions professor, Harry had trouble believing that. Snape was deadly still and didn’t seem to be breathing. The blood on his neck stood in stark contrast with his white face, fading into his black robes.

Hermione slowly approached Snape, kneeling down next to him. She touched the man’s forehead and looked up. “He’s so cold.”

“He’s  _dead_ , Hermione,” Ron said, staring at Snape’s body. “’Course he’s cold.”

Harry swallowed and knelt down by Snape’s body as well. “I’m sorry, Snape,” he murmured, replacing Hermione’s fingers with his own. The moment his skin touched that of the Potions master, however, something happened.

Harry swore he felt a tingle run through him and exit his fingers. Just as that happened, Snape gave a shuddery gasp and began breathing noticeably.

Hermione gave a loud gasp of surprise while Ron sprang back, shouting “Bloody  _hell_!”

Harry stared, not comprehending what had just happened. “Wha—?”

“He’s  _alive_!” squeaked Hermione, brown eyes wide.

“Bloody hell!”

“Ron, go get Madame Pomfrey! He’s  _alive_!”

“He’s  _alive_?”

“Go get help, Ron! We’ll have to stop the bleeding…”

“He’s not an Inferi, is he?”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Ron… _get help_!”

* * *

**September 1, 1994**

Harry leaned back in his seat, looking out the window of the Hogwarts Express as it chugged through the countryside. That morning he’d overheard that Alastor had sounded the alarms for being attacked, meaning that Crouch Jr. was now Polyjuiced as the ex-Auror. He’d also heard hints that the Triwizard Tournament would be held at Hogwarts, which was great news considering what his plans hinged on.

But the tournament taking place didn’t depend on Harry’s actions outside of Hogwarts, especially not this close to the debut. What did matter was how he behaved in Hogwarts, surrounded by vulnerable children. If he couldn’t handle his instincts during the Cup, how was he supposed to handle it for months?

He’d barely managed to stave off Ron and Hermione after coming back to the Burrow. He’d simply spouted off some nonsense about accidental magic and his wand behaving weirdly, although he knew Hermione was still suspicious and Ron had just barely swallowed that garbage.

Hoping that the problem (both of them) would resolve itself, Harry went to buy some Cauldron Cakes from the lunch trolley when it rolled around. As the ride went on, they were soon joined by Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, all faces that Harry had yearned to see since arriving in the past. Seamus and Dean left soon afterward, although Neville stayed behind.

He sat back and browsed through the Defense book he’d gotten for fourth year, listening with half an ear to the conversation around him that was centered on the Quidditch World Cup. The book really wasn’t interesting enough to hold his attention as he knew all the spells by heart and then some, but the conversation itself wasn’t something he wanted to listen to again. Quidditch was great and all (and he was going to enjoy flying on the team again) but he had more important things to worry about.

Ron was currently regaling Neville about Victor Krum. “We saw him right up close, as well,” he said. “We were in the Top Box—”

“For the first and last time in your life, Weasley,” Draco Malfoy drawled from his position at the compartment door.

Before Ron could say anything, Harry jumped up and accosted Draco by pumping his hand furiously, earning himself incredulous stares from the other three in the compartment.

“Draco Malfoy?” he asked, putting an appropriate amount of eagerness in his tone. “Are you the one they keep talking about?’

Draco yanked his hand out of Harry’s, frowning perplexedly. “Get off, Potter. What are you playing at?”

Harry put on a delighted expression and turned to his extremely befuddled friends. “He knows my name!” He looked back at Draco. “I’m Harry, Harry Potter. But then you already knew that!” He wasn’t sure whether his grin was too deranged but thought that it might help sell the show.

Draco was by now looking slightly freaked out and tried to back up out of the compartment. But Harry wasn’t having any of it and had captured Draco’s hand again.

“I’ve wanted to meet you ever since Ron told me about your friendship in Hogwarts! He tells me we’re enemies but I can’t  _imagine_  that! It seems like we’d be best of friends, doesn’t it?”

Crabbe and Goyle, Draco’s bodyguards, shot each other confused looks at Harry’s excited tone. Draco looked dearly like he wanted to be anywhere else than where he was right now.

“Of course, Potter,” Draco said, trying to extract his hand from Harry’s death grip.

“Call me Harry, Draco!” Harry said, beaming. “What do you say to us being friends?”

Draco finally managed to wrench his hand out of Harry’s and hastily backed up five feet from the supposedly deranged Harry. “I’ll think on it.” He promptly fled down the aisle as dignified as he could, Crabbe and Goyle on his heels.

Keeping a wide grin plastered on his face, Harry stepped back into the compartment and shut the door, turning to his friends.

Ron was gaping at him. “What the bloody hell was  _that_ , Harry?”

Harry shrugged, shooting him a cheerful grin. “Remember what I said at the cup about me not wanting to meet Draco before then?”

“You wanted to do  _that_?” Hermione asked incredulously, looking like she could scarcely believe what had just transpired.

“You’re not really going to be friends with him, are you, Harry?” Neville said nervously.

“I cast the die,” Harry said. “It’s up to Draco whether he’s going to take me up on the offer. As for me, I’m going to keep acting like an amnesiac and smile and wave at him whenever I can. I’ll also hound his footsteps and ask for help on my homework when I can.”

“So that’s your explanation?” Hermione leaned forward over her book. “You’re going to pretend you’ve gotten amnesia?”

“When it comes to Draco anyway,” Harry confirmed.

Ron suddenly burst out laughing. “Did you see his  _face_? That was just too funny! He looked like he couldn’t get out of here fast enough!”

Neville was still anxious. “Harry, are you sure? Gran is always going on about the Malfoys…”

“That’s why I’m doing it,” Harry said in-between Ron’s guffaws. “Haven’t you ever heard the old adage ‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer’?”

“Clever, Harry,” Hermione said. “I just hope it doesn’t backfire on you…”

“For that matter, Hermione, I do, too,” Harry admitted. For more than one reason.

* * *

When Harry caught sight of Hogwarts, standing proud and tall, he had to stifle a sob. The last time he’d seen the castle it had been devoured by flames before a powerful explosion shattered the foundation and sent it crumbling to the ground. After that, the resistance against Voldemort had to scavenge for hiding places.

They’d never found out what exactly had allowed Voldemort past the wards, although Harry suspected it had been a student who had slipped through their defenses and set the fire. As it was, not everyone had managed to make it out alive…including the Headmistress.

As he climbed into one of the carriages pulled by the thestrals, Harry was determined that it wouldn’t happen again.

“All right, Harry?” Hermione asked, sensing his subdued mood.

Harry smiled. “All right, Hermione. I just can’t wait to be back.”

“I know,” Ron moaned. “I’m  _starving_.”

Harry shared a private grin with Hermione over Ron’s antics and mentally admitted that he was also ravenous. He had yet to get his hands on the ingredients for the nutrition potion but hoped to do that soon. He already had plans for tonight.

When they finally stepped into the castle, they had to avoid a water-balloon happy Peeves before making their way to Gryffindor’s table. In the meantime, Harry took the opportunity to wave cheerfully to Draco, who hastily ducked behind the stolid figure of Crabbe.

Hiding a wicked grin, Harry sat down at the table, avoiding the water Ron shook out from his robes and shoes from being pelted by Peeves’ water balloons.

“Good evening,” Sir Nicholas, also known as Nearly Headless Nick, said cheerfully.

“Evening, Nick,” Harry responded. “How’s it going?”

“As well as can be expected,” Nick said.

“Hiya, Harry!” a new voice interrupted cheerfully.

Harry turned and promptly had to swallow upon seeing Colin Creevey. “Hi, Colin.”

The excitable thirteen-year-old didn’t notice Harry’s subdued tone. “Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother’s starting! My brother Dennis!”

Harry smiled, remembering Dennis from his later years at Hogwarts. “Really? That’s great!”

“I know! He’s really excited!” Colin was practically bouncing up and down in excitement; it made Harry dizzy just watching him.”I just hope he’s in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?”

“Will do,” Harry promised, already knowing that Dennis would be in Gryffindor.

With that, Colin hurried off to get his own seat. Harry turned to his friends to see Ron scanning the staff table.

“Who do you reckon’s the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Ron asked. “I don’t see anyone new at the table.”

“Maybe they couldn’t get one this year,” Hermione suggested.

“They got one,” Harry disagreed. “He, or she, is probably late. I don’t think Dumbledore could start  _without_  one to be honest.”

He scanned the table himself, taking note of Pomona Sprout, Rubeus Hagrid, Filius Flitwick, Sinistra, Albus Dumbledore, and…Severus Snape. It was over the greasy-haired and hook-nosed Potions professor that Harry’s gaze lingered the longest.

_The curse sliced through the thin body, scattering the limbs and splattering the stone floor with dark crimson blood…_

Harry jerked out of the memory, one of the last he had before plunging through the veil, and tried to reassure himself that Severus was alive now, albeit hating him, and that he could change  _everything_.

As his eyes drifted off Severus and towards Dumbledore, Harry became keenly aware of something singing to him. Confused, he cocked his head to the side, closing his eyes to better understand.

It didn’t sound like a phoenix. In fact, when he really got down to it, it sounded like something  _moaning_. But the moaning was so much like singing that—

“Oh, hurry up,” Ron moaned from beside Harry, no longer caring about the missing teacher. “I could eat a hippogriff.”

Sighing as his concentration was broken, Harry looked up as Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, walked in with the year’s newest first years trailing behind her. He caught sight of Dennis Creevey, who was swamped in Hagrid’s huge coat and completely soaked, excitedly bouncing up and down. The other first years were equally soaked as Dennis, although none of them had the fortune of falling in the lake.

With the Sorting Hat now placed on the chair, Harry leaned forwards on his elbows and enjoyed the song. When it finished, the entire Great Hall burst into applause, though the first years still looked rather intimidated at the thought of having a  _talking_  hat sitting on their heads and telling them where to go.

When the Sorting was finally over, Dumbledore stood up and said, “I have only two words to say to you.  _Tuck in_.”

With that said, food began appearing on the plates before them, Ron only giving a heartfelt “Hear, hear” before quickly helping himself to the platters.

Harry was more sedate and picked out the healthiest foods he could. As he started eating, he half listened to what Nick was saying.

“You’re lucky there was a feast at all tonight, you know. There was trouble in the kitchens earlier.”

Ron swallowed his mouthful of mashed potatoes. “What happened?”

“Peeves, of course,” Nick said, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. “The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast – well, it’s quite out of the question, you know what he’s like, utterly uncivilized, can’t see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost’s council – the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance – but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down.”

“Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something,” Ron said darkly. “So what did he do in the kitchens?”

“Oh, the usual,” Nick said, shrugging. “Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits.”

There was a clang as Hermione knocked over her golden goblet, spilling pumpkin juice everywhere. Harry flicked out his wand and  _Evanescoed_  the mess away, making sure to mutter the word rather than doing it silently.

Hermione paid no heed to his actions. “There are house-elves  _here_? Here at  _Hogwarts_?”

“Certainly,” Nick said, seeming surprised at Hermione’s shock. “The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred.”

“I’ve never seen one!” Hermione said, still trying to wrap her brain around the fact.

“Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?” Nick said. “They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning…see to the fires and so on…I mean, you’re not supposed to see them, are you? That’s the mark of a good house-elf, isn’t it, that you don’t know it’s there?”

“But they get  _paid_? They get  _holidays_ , don’t they? And – and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?”

Before Nick could wade through what Hermione had said, Harry had pulled her towards him. “Hermione, remember what I said earlier? About checking the facts before taking a stance?”

“Harry—”

Harry cut her off. “If you want to see the house-elves here at Hogwarts, I know how to get to the kitchens. You can study them up close then and see what it’s really like.”

“But…it’s slavery!” Hermione looked frustrated.

Harry sighed and checked to see that Hermione’s goblet had refilled itself. He shoved it into her hands. “Look, Hermione, it’s only slavery if they’re not getting anything back for it. They might not be paid for services the way servants are but they’re  _happy_. Dobby was an oddball but even he’s happier working than just lazing about.”

“What he says is true, you know,” Nick said, overhearing Harry’s argument. “They’re cheerful little creatures and enjoy working. You don’t want to take that away from them, do you?”

Hermione looked torn. “But…”

“Just eat,” Harry said, pressing a fork and knife into her reluctant fingers. “I, for one, am starved.” He turned to his own food and began cutting the steak up into bite sized pieces, making sure to chew each piece before putting the next in his mouth.

In time, the main course disappeared to give way to dessert. Harry reverently placed some treacle tart on his plate – it had been positively  _ages_  since he’d last had some from Hogwarts – and savored every bite until the dessert course also disappeared.

When it became clear that everyone had been sated and that the noise in the Great Hall was beginning to die down, Dumbledore once again stood up. “So!” He smiled at all the students. “Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

“Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you…”

Harry tuned out in the middle, distracted by the strange singing noise he was once again hearing. This time, because it was just the Headmaster speaking, he could pinpoint where it was coming from. When he located the source, he couldn’t help but stare. Dumbledore’s robes?

The _Elder Wand_? Was he hearing a  _wand_?

As puzzled as he was, he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. What options were there? Walk up to Dumbledore and ask to see if his wand was singing to him? The man would think he was barmy and send him to Poppy for a checkup.

Never mind that he  _was_  slightly barmy from the war. Everyone had been by the end.

“It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year.”

Amidst the shouts of dismay that were filling the Great Hall, Harry put his face in his hands. Bugger. He’d completely forgotten that with the tournament going on Quidditch had been canceled. Ah well…he could always look forward to out-flying a dragon. It wasn’t every day that happened.

Dumbledore continued explaining, “This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers’ time and energy – but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely: I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts—”

He was cut off with a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banging open.

Harry’s head snapped around so fast he swore his neck cracked. Wincing, he took a deep breath and flicked his wand back into his holster, hoping no one had noticed. Alastor Moody (or rather Bartemius Crouch Jr.) had arrived, Dark Mark and all. He hadn’t bothered with Severus’s Mark since it was dampened by Severus’s association with the Light side; Crouch’s, on the other hand, was steeped in Dark Magic, putting Harry’s nerves all the more on edge.

The imposter that was Moody stumped towards the staff table on his wooden leg, frightening everyone in the vicinity with his scarred and fierce visage. When he reached the table, he shook Dumbledore’s hand and took a seat by Dumbledore’s right side.

Harry winced upon seeing Severus’s dark face. He knew Alastor and Severus had bad history between the two and wished he could help his friend.

“May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?” Dumbledore said brightly, breaking the silence. “Professor Moody.”

No one bothered to applaud for Moody – Crouch – as they were too transfixed by his ugly appearance.

Within a few moments, Dumbledore seemed to realize this and cleared his throat to continue, “As I was saying, we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year.”

“You’re JOKING!” Fred shouted.

His loud shout caused nearly everyone in the Great Hall to burst into laughter and Dumbledore chuckled as well.

“I am not joking, Mr. Weasley,” he said, “though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar…”

Minerva cleared her throat loudly, cutting the rambling wizard off.

“Er, but maybe this is not the time…no…” Dumbledore regained his train of thought. “Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament…well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who _do_  know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely.

“The Triwizard Tournament…”

As Dumbledore explained the tournament, Harry took the opportunity to further examine the odd singing noise he was once again being subjected to. It wasn’t bad singing but simply annoying. Carefully examining Dumbledore’s robes, where he knew the wand was hidden, Harry noticed how the wizard put a hand to his side as if to grip something. When his eyes went to the elderly wizard’s face, he noted that a slightly perplexed expression crossed it for a split-second; while this transpired, Dumbledore continued speaking.

“…until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued.”

“ _Death toll_?” Hermione whispered, alarmed.

“Death toll,” Harry confirmed, ignoring the outbreak of whispers in the hall.

“What do  _you_  know about it?” Hermione asked him, a suspicious look entering her brown eyes.

“Not much,” Harry lied, aware that he couldn’t be too knowledgeable about it. “Just thought I should confirm what you asked.”

Hermione shot him an injured look and returned her attention to Dumbledore.

‘There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament…”

Pondering over what he’d planned for the night, Harry tuned out the rest of Dumbledore’s speech. He already knew everything by heart, having gone through the bloody thing himself, and didn’t need to be warned.

Hell, it wasn’t even going to be his choice.

* * *

At midnight, Harry snuck out of his bed and pulled his Invisibility Cloak on over his nightclothes. Slipping his shoes on as well, he padded down the stairs and out of the dormitory. Once in the corridor, Harry quietly activated the Marauder’s Map with his lit wand and set off.

He made it to the seventh floor without any mishaps and paced the corridor three times. The third time a door appeared and he opened it, entering the Room of Requirement and finding himself in a jumbled mess of discarded, hidden, or lost items.

Taking a deep breath and putting the map away, Harry opened his senses to sense the Horcrux hidden here. Feeling it whisper to him, he set off on a winding circuit through the mess, eventually coming to a hideous mannequin that had a crown on it.

“Ravenclaw’s diadem,” he whispered, inspecting it carefully. Carefully, he turned it invisible and floated it in the air. He had no desire to touch the cursed thing until he was sure the soul inside it was gone.

It was a pity he’d never discovered any way of destroying these things  _without_ completely demolishing the item used. Why couldn’t Voldemort have used something like a moldy piece of cheese or an old boot for a Horcrux?

Because he was far too arrogant for such “simple” objects. Granted, the fact that he did use such famous objects made it easier for Harry to find them. Imagine if Voldemort had used a random _stone_ … There’d be no hope, then.

Carefully sneaking through the corridors, Harry wound his way down to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

No one was in the bathroom except for Myrtle, who was currently wailing about one thing or another. Ignoring the ghost, Harry went to the sink. He still had his Parseltongue abilities, having kept them despite the bit of Voldemort’s soul inside of him being expelled. To his relief, he wasn’t a Horcrux again.

He didn’t need to be willing to die  _again_  just so Voldemort could go and rot in hell for good.

“ ** _Open_** ,” he hissed and the sink promptly slid down into the ground.

Myrtle gave a ghastly shriek upon hearing the hissing from nowhere and seeing the sink move and dove into a toilet. Harry grinned wickedly and cast a powerful  _Scourgify_  that sent all the slime and grime to kingdom come. His path now clean, he slid down the pipe until landing in the chamber filled with bones.

“Urgh…” Harry cleaned himself off and continued, the diadem still floating in front of him but now visible. He was visible now as well, having twisted the cloak’s magic the right way.

When reaching the cave-in that the idiot Lockhart had caused in his second year, it only took one spell to support the ceiling and another to clear the rubble before Harry continued onward. When he reached the actual chamber itself, he recoiled from the smell of rotting basilisk.

Wrinkling his nose and casting a Bubble-Head Charm to give him a supply of fresh air, Harry made his way to the decaying corpse and promptly cast a stasis charm. He had plans for the remnants of this basilisk and that did not include it wasting away.

Picking a fang from the basilisk mouth, Harry placed the diadem on the ground and curled his hand firmly around the makeshift weapon. Breathing in deeply and hoping that nothing would go wrong because he was  _screwed_  otherwise, Harry plunged the fang down.

An unearthly scream erupted in the once silent Chamber of Secrets.

* * *

When Harry woke up, the first thing he was aware of was a throbbing headache. The second was that the Horcrux was most definitely gone.

His vision swam as he got to his knees, joints protesting the rough night on the cold and damp floor of the chamber. It took a moment for his head to settle as he breathed in slowly.

He hadn’t anticipated such a violent backlash since it had never happened before. Well…live and learn; he wouldn’t risk it happening next time.

Harry looked at his watch and widened his eyes in alarm when he saw it was already seven in the morning. He was going to raise all sorts of alarms if he wasn’t back within the next fifteen minutes.

Scooping up the burnt diadem and the basilisk fang, Harry pelted down the length of the chamber towards the other side. By the time he reached the pipe he’d slid down earlier, his chest was heaving and his lungs burning for air.

He needed to get back into shape.

Considering how he was going to get up, he thought that Salazar Slytherin must have made some other way of entering and exiting the chamber. He’d only taken the pipe again because it was fun. “ ** _Stairs_**.”

Nothing happened.

Harry frowned, hissing in a more commanding tone, “ ** _In the name of Salazar Slytherin’s heir, I demand stairs!_** ” When still nothing happened, Harry’s scowl deepened and he dropped the diadem. It looked like he wouldn’t have any other choice but to use his other form. He didn’t want to pull his other trick out of his hat yet since he knew the Headmaster had wards in place for that particular method of traveling, even if he was allowed to do it.

Focusing on the form he wanted to take, Harry’s human form morphed into that of a peregrine falcon with brown feathers. He was usually bluish-black, but at least nothing else had changed. It was probably his age that led to the change in color, but he thought he could still fly.

After inspecting his form to ensure that he hadn’t done anything wrong, Harry clasped the diadem in his talons and swooped upwards into the pipe. He was thankful that his wingspan wasn’t as large as it would become, as it was a tight fit with his wingtips touching the ends of the pipe.

Swooping up and out of the pipe, Harry transformed back midair and landed lightly on his feet. He closed the entrance with a hissed “ ** _Closed,_** ” made himself invisible again, and dashed off down the hall, pulling out the map as he did.

Taking as many shortcuts as he was familiar with and jumping a stair that decided to move at the last second, Harry made it to the Gryffindor dormitories and dove onto his bed just as Ron exited the shower. He quickly ducked under the covers to ensure that Ron didn’t see the horrible state of his nightclothes.

“There you are, Harry,” Ron said, yawning widely. “I was just about to wake you up.”

Harry gave a noncommittal grunt and when Ron turned his back, dashed into the shower with his school robes in hand. Once inside, he peeled off his disgusting nightclothes and jumped under the hot water.

Nothing beat a hot shower.

* * *

Why hadn’t he dropped this class before? Surely he hadn’t been that desperate for an easy grade.

Harry bent his head over his Ancient Runes book while Trelawney droned on about something involving dreams. The book he was studying was disguised to look like a Divinations book if anyone cared to look and read like one, too, unless that person was Harry.

“That book any good?” Ron whispered, leaning over Harry’s shoulder to look at it.

Not for Divination. Harry whispered back, “You didn’t read yours?”

“It’s  _Divination_.”

Harry gave Ron a small smile and returned to his reading. He was researching all possible avenues so that he could defeat Voldemort for good this time around. Since he had the resources and opportunities to do so now, he was grabbing it. Divination was the one class where he could skive off without the professor noticing anything. He didn’t really have to do his homework by hand thanks to the nifty charm Hermione had taught him in the future, so that left him even more time to do his own research.

By the time Divination was over, Harry’s mind was swimming with runes and he stuffed the book back into the bag, taking the homework Trelawney was handing out. It took his muddled brain a few seconds to register that he was supposed to make a bunch of predictions regarding the future.

“A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart,” she told everyone. “I want it ready by Monday.”

What had he done last time with this homework? Made stuff up? That sounded about right.

Ron grumbled on the way down to the Great Hall. “Miserable old bat. That’ll take all weekend, that will…”

“Lots of homework?” Hermione asked, catching up with them. “Professor Vector didn’t give  _us_  any at all!”

“Well, bully for Professor Vector,” Ron said moodily.

They’d reached the end of the line queuing for the Great Hall when they were distracted by a voice calling for Ron. “Weasley! Hey, Weasley!”

The trio turned around to see Draco with his two goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

“What?” Ron asked shortly.

“Your dad’s in the paper, Weasley!” Draco said, brandishing a copy of the  _Daily Prophet_. He was about to read it out loud when he was accosted by Harry, who’d plastered yet another cheery grin on his face.

“Really?” Harry asked excitedly. “Ron’s dad is in the  _paper_? Could you hand it to me?”

Before Draco could protest, Harry had snatched the paper out of his hands and was reading it through. He scoffed when he came to the end. “That’s garbage! They didn’t even get his name right!  _Arnold_  Weasley? Anyone with half a brain knows it’s  _Arthur_  Weasley!”

Draco tried to save some face, flushing under the gaping faces of everyone around them. “It’s like he’s a complete nonentity!” he said snottily.

Harry whacked Draco upside the head with the paper, which he’d crumpled up into a tiny ball. “Don’t be rude, Draco!” He put on a sad face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me! I haven’t seen you since the train!”

“Er—”

“What do you think about being friends?” Harry beamed at an extremely flustered Draco.

By that time, everyone in the corridor was staring at the two enemies. Ron and Hermione had openly gaped the first few seconds but were by now trying desperately not to burst into laughter at Draco’s loss of face.

Draco tried to salvage what he could. “Look, Potter—”

“ _Harry_ ,” said Harry firmly. “Friends don’t call other friends by their last names. Goodness, you make it sound like we’re mortal enemies!”

Draco jumped at that. “We  _are_. What do you think you’re playing at?”

Harry plastered a woebegone expression on his face. “You mean you  _don’t_  want to be friends with me? I’ve heard loads about you! All good things, really—”

“You already have friends!” Draco bit out, cutting Harry off.

Harry threw an arm around Draco, pretending that was an invitation for friendship. “If you were worried about  _that_ , silly, you just needed to say it! You can never have too many!”

People were muttering now.

“ _Silly_?”

“Did Potter just call Malfoy  _silly_?”

“D’you reckon he’s cursed?”

Harry ignored the whispers in favor of beaming at Draco, who was giving an excellent impression of a deer caught in headlights. “What d’you think, Draco?” He held out his hand in mimicry of Draco three years ago. “Friends?”

Pale eyes desperately looking for an escape that wasn’t revealing itself, Draco found he didn’t have any other choice but to clasp Harry’s hand. “Fine, P-Harry.” He grimaced as he said it.

Harry shot him a blinding smile. “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now, what do you have to say about Hagrid’s class this morning? Looking forward to the Blast-Ended Skrewts?”

Pinned between Harry’s arm and body, Draco found that he really couldn’t avoid walking into the Great Hall as if he were already best chums with his once hated (and now apparently crazy) enemy. Behind them were Ron and Hermione – still trying desperately not to laugh – and Crabbe and Goyle, who looked completely and utterly lost at what had just occurred.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noted that Crouch – Moody – was staring at the scene with an ugly look on his scarred face.

* * *

**December 24, 1998**

Shivering in the cold air, Harry hurried to knock loudly on the wooden door. Now all remained to wait and see if he even bothered to open it.

Flakes of snow clung to his winter robes and hair, making it look like he’d just stepped out of the shower. His glasses fogged with his warm breath and, scowling, he muttered a quick spell and tapped his wand to the frame to make them impervious to changes in temperature.

He should have done it before, but he’d only learned the charm a few days ago. Hermione, for all her brains, had never considered learning such a spell.

Taking a step back, Harry inspected the dilapidated house he was waiting outside of. Considering its inhabitant, it was in miserable condition, and he frowned upon thinking over the reasons for why it should be.

It wasn’t like he’d ever bothered to take care of himself before, so why should that change now? Besides, he doubted there’d been much financial help from the Wizarding World.

Shifting his weight from leg to leg, Harry shuddered as a gust of violently cold air blew through the area. Warming Charms only went so far without roasting the person.

Just as Harry decided that he’d better knock again, the door opened a crack to reveal a sallow and lined face with obsidian eyes.

A hoarse voice spoke with unmistakable venom. “Potter.”

Harry shot his former Potions professor a grin. “Hi, sir.” As the dour man moved to close the door, Harry’s hand snapped out to stop it. “Come on, don’t be like that.”

Reluctantly, Snape opened the door wider. “What are you doing here, Potter?”

Harry’s grin melted into a smile. “I wanted to see you. I heard they’ve finally cleared you for good from all hospital checkups.”

Snape sneered at Harry. “I would be reluctant to believe you even if you weren’t the Golden Boy.”

Harry rolled his eyes and stomped his boots on the ground. “ _Legilimens_  me if you want. Can I at least come inside?”

Looking as though the thought pained him, Snape stepped aside so that Harry could come in out of the cold. Once inside, Harry took a closer look at Snape.

Snape had lost weight and seemed to be even paler if it was possible. The scars on his neck from Nagini’s attack were hidden from view by the high collars he always wore. The only sign he’d been close to death was his hoarse voice.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Snape asked again, sounding resigned. “Come to gloat?”

Harry shot him a pained look.”What makes you think I’d gloat? Professor—” He belatedly realized that Snape was no longer a professor and calling him such would be considered an insult. In fact, even now Snape’s face was turning thunderous. “No, wait, sorry about that,” he added hastily. “I’m just so used to thinking of you as a professor that, well…” He cleared his throat nervously, mentally making a note to avoid using “professor” in the future. The only reason he’d done so now was to try and be respectful. “Look, Snape…we’ve had a lot of misconceptions about each other. I’ve shed mine since…since that time, and I really hope that you can shed yours.”

Snape scrutinized Harry closely for any signs of falsehood. Harry felt the telltale brush of Legilimency against his mind but didn’t react except to wait patiently.

Without a word, Snape brushed aside Harry and walked into a different room. Recognizing the silent agreement for what it was, Harry trailed behind him, casting a Drying Charm to stop his cloak from dripping water on the floor. He entered the sitting room and had to stop himself from letting any trace of the outrage he felt from showing on his face.

The room was horribly and completely shabby; it was also filthy. There was a cheerful fire crackling in the grate but there was nothing to signify that Christmas was currently in full spirit outside of Spinner’s End.

Snape’s hoarse voice freed him from his outrage. “Does it meet your standards, Potter?”

“It’s cozy,” Harry said eventually. While it wasn’t pretty or clean, it certainly was cozy.

Snape gave him an incredulous glance. “ _Cozy_?”

Harry gave him an inscrutable look. “What do  _you_  think of it?”

Snape scoffed and took a seat by the fire. He clearly had no intention of answering Harry’s question or offering him a seat. Unruffled by the slight, Harry took a seat opposite of Snape.

“How have you been?” Harry asked quietly after a few minutes’ peaceful silence.

Snape started at the sound of Harry’s voice. Seeming to consider the question for a few moments, he finally answered, “Well.”

Knowing that Snape would never return the courtesy, Harry proceeded to say, “It’s been a busy year. I don’t think I’ve had a moment to myself since that day.”

Snape snorted in derision. “You mean to say that they’re not bending over backwards to grant your every whim?”

Harry shrugged. “I got accepted as an Auror – apparently killing Voldemort”—Snape flinched—“serves as good enough credentials to bypass training – but I insisted on some preliminary training. I know I’ve got gaps in my education. I was running around and living in a tent for my seventh year.” Unclipping his cloak and letting it fall back on the chair, Harry leaned forwards. “I’ll be done with that training by my birthday.”

Snape’s obsidian eyes flickered towards Harry before returning to the fire.

Harry sighed and sat back in the chair. “What about you? What are your plans?”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I’m capable of doing?”

Harry inspected him carefully, wondering at his defensive tone. “I know you’ve never liked teaching much. But I know Professor McGonagall would always take you back if you wanted. You’re terrific at Potions… Why don’t you open up a shop or some sort of mail-order business?”

Snape sneered. “Potter, I’m a former Death Eater who is despised for killing the leader of the Light. The only reason I am currently sitting here and not in a dank cell of Azkaban is because of  _you_.”

Harry’s eyes darkened with anger. “You didn’t  _want_  to kill Dumbledore so don’t go and put the blame on yourself. I’m just as much to blame as yourself when it comes to ruining your good name. I never trusted you before—”

“And you do now?”

“Yes, I do!” Harry’s furious green eyes met Snape’s black ones. “I  _do_  trust you.”

The conviction in Harry’s tone made Snape sit back, a stunned look flickering across his eyes. “Well, well, Potter…”

Recognizing that he’d won this particular battle, Harry pulled out a rather beaten up watch and checked the time. Seeing that it was later than he’d anticipated, he stood up and put his cloak back on.

“Leaving already, Potter?”

“I just needed to make sure that you gave that voice of yours some exercise,” Harry said cheekily. “Considering how hoarse it is, I’m glad I did.”

Snape stood up furiously. “Potter—”

Harry cut him off with a wave of his hand. “There, you see how tense you are? You just need to lighten up!”

“Why  _are_  you really here?” Snape asked again, wearily.

Harry gave Snape a warm smile. “Because no one deserves to be alone on Christmas Day.” He pulled out a small square package from his cloak and pressed it into a stunned Snape’s hands. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what'd you think? Did you like Harry's evil plan for Draco? And what about the glimpses into the past?  
> Next chapter will have Severus play a large role. Like I said previously, I just love to hear feedback from my readers.


	5. Severus Snape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How will Harry break the news to his former/future friend?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These flashbacks serve a purpose. They fill up plot holes you'd otherwise be noticing. Like, how did Voldemort come back? How did the world fall into chaos in eleven years? How did Harry and his friends survive? These questions will be answered through these flashbacks. We might come to the end of them by Chapter 17, though I'm not a 100% sure.

**July 31, 1999**

“Oh, Happy Birthday, Harry!” Mrs. Weasley engulfed Harry in a huge hug after he ungracefully tumbled out of the Floo.

Harry hugged her back. “Thanks, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Molly, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley chided with a warm smile. “You’re no longer as young as you used to be, you know.” A sad frown flashed across her face before it disappeared. “Now, go on into the sitting room. Ron and the others are waiting for you.”

Harry smiled gratefully at Mrs. – Molly and gave her another hug. “Thanks, Mrs.-Molly.”

That would feel strange for a while.

As he entered the sitting room, Harry was promptly accosted by a bushy-haired witch. “Harry!” A flushed Hermione drew back to beam at her best friend. “How are you?”

“Brilliant, Hermione,” Harry said, smiling back.

Ron whacked Harry playfully on the shoulder. “Hey, Harry. Everything going all right?”

Harry nodded absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on his girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley. “Ginny…”

Ginny smiled sweetly at him, coming over to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “Happy Birthday, Harry,” she said softly, winding her fingers through his unruly black hair.

“Ugh, Ginny!” Ron groaned, earning himself a punch in the arm from Hermione. “Ow, Hermione!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Ronald!”

“What did little Ickle Ronnie do now?” George Weasley asked, popping his head through the doorway. He gave Harry a nod. “Hiya, Harry. Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks, George,” Harry said. “Ron’s just being Ron.”

“Don’t call me that, George,” Ron growled.

“What? Ickle Ronnie? Would you rather prefer Won-Won?” George pitched his voice high in a poor imitation of Lavender.

This time, it was Hermione who shot a small hex at George, who yelped and ducked behind the frame.

“At least he’s joking around now,” Ron muttered to Harry. “But he’s still really depressed.”

“Yeah, well…he and Fred were really close.” Harry rubbed a tense Ginny’s back. “I noticed the shop’s still going strong.”

“Yeah… It’s not the same, though,” Ron said soberly, a dark light falling in his blue eyes. “Even Mum’s quieter than usual.”

“You guys didn’t have to do this, you know,” Harry said lightly.

“Do what?” Ginny asked, pulling away to look him in the face.

“This.” Harry gestured around at the decorations.

“Don’t be silly,” Ginny scolded. “You’re family. Of course we’re going to throw you a  _birthday_  party. We threw you one last year, too, if you remember,” she continued indignantly, “even if it didn’t turn out the way we quite expected.”

“Of course I remember, Ginny…” Harry didn’t want to say what everyone else was thinking: how disastrous his eighteenth birthday party had become after the reporters had gotten wind of it and crashed the party. It had taken days to sort out the mess, and Severus had had a right old laugh about the whole thing when Harry had told him. “Er…this one is private, right?”

“You’ll probably still get a ton of owls at your place,” Ron said, “but it’s private this time. Bill warded the Burrow really well.”

“The rest of the family will be back soon,” George said, sprawling out on the couch. “They just have some last-minute preparations to make.”

Harry made a noncommittal noise and scanned the room, a smile on his face. It dropped gradually as he realized who wasn’t here.

_“I have a birthday party tomorrow.”_

_“You are telling me this why exactly?”_

_“You’re invited. It wouldn’t kill you to get out of the house, you know.”_

_“You already hauled me off on a shopping spree.”_

_“And look at the room! …You’ll come, won’t you?”_

_“…Perhaps.”_

Although the answer had been vague, Harry had hoped that his friend would come instead of holing himself up in that dreary house. He’d gone on a shopping spree to help liven it up, but even that couldn’t improve the countenance of the dour man living there.

Shaking it off, Harry returned his attention to his friends, laughing as they dragged him into a game of Exploding Snap.

Two hours later and Harry could honestly say that he’d never had as much fun before as he’d had then. The latest game of Exploding Snap finally drew to an end with George winning and the other guests making an appearance.

“’Ello, ’Arry,” Fleur Weasley said, kissing Harry on each cheek. “’Appy Birthday.”

“Hello, Fleur,” Harry said. He greeted her husband, Bill, with a smile. “Thanks for warding the Burrow.”

“No problem. Better than what happened last year, eh?” Bill grinned widely, winking.

“Happy Birthday,” Charlie Weasley said, shaking Harry’s hand. “Sorry I can’t stay long. I’m just visiting for a few hours before I have to head back.”

Mr. Weasley entered the room with a plastic bag in hand. “Ah, Harry! Having a good time so far?”

“Brilliant, Mr. Weasley. Thanks for having me.”

Mr. Weasley shook his head at Harry. “Call me Arthur, Harry. I assume Molly’s already told you, but I have to say that you really aren’t a child anymore.”

“He’s nineteen; ’course he’s not a child anymore!” Ron said indignantly, throwing an arm around his best mate’s shoulders. “Unless you’ve gone and De-Aged yourself without telling us?”

Harry laughed. “If I did something like that I’d tell you. You’d probably notice at any rate if I was suddenly eleven again.”

Molly entered the room and divested Arthur of his plastic bag. “Ah, good, Arthur, you got what I asked for.” She peered inside to frown. “What on earth is this?”

Arthur looked guilty. “Well, you see, Molly, they had a sale on these Muggle gadgets… Oh but don’t worry – I  _did_  get what you asked for! Now where did I put it…”

“He’s as barmy as always,” Ron whispered to Harry.

But Harry wasn’t listening to Ron. His eyes were fixed on the doorway to the kitchen, where a dark-robed man had suddenly appeared.

Noticing that his friend wasn’t paying him any attention, Ron followed Harry’s gaze to see what he had; his jaw promptly dropped.

Hermione saw him next and she almost dropped the book she was holding. “ _Oh_!”

George looked up from the stack of Exploding Snap cards he was putting together and promptly dropped the entire pack in shock. Ginny fared much better, but then she didn’t have anything to hold; Charlie, on the other hand, almost pushed over a candlestick. Bill looked up from the magazine Fleur was showing him to also stare; having lost her husband’s attention, Fleur looked to have her eyebrows disappear into her hairline.

“Do shut your mouth, Weasley; it doesn’t become you,” the man drawled, seemingly unaffected by the reactions of everyone else in the room.

Harry’s mouth quirked into a pleased smile and he approached his former Potions professor. “So, Severus, you decided to come after all.”

Severus Snape shoved his present into Harry’s chest. “Happy Birthday, brat.”

* * *

**September 4, 1994**

Harry looked up from the potion he was brewing, stirring counterclockwise to turn the pink sludge into a lovely turquoise. His green eyes met that of his dour Potions professor.

The man stared at Harry for a second longer than what he usually did before his eyes narrowed and he swept away to inspect Parvati Patil’s potion. Harry breathed out slowly and felt his robe pocket for the vial he had in there. Once he assured himself that the vial was still there, Harry added the beetles he’d crushed earlier and watched with satisfaction as the potion darkened to a ruby red.

If Severus had anything to say about the quality of this potion, Harry would turn in his wand.

“You’re done already?” Hermione asked, peering with shock at Harry’s perfect potion. “How’d you get that done so quickly?”

“I read quite a bit of Potions over the summer and started experimenting – not with actual potions but with the theory. Did you know my mum was really talented at Potions?”

“No, I didn’t,” Hermione murmured, returning her attention to her potion.

“Blimey,” Ron muttered, trying to salvage what he could of his frothing brown potion. “How the hell did I get this mess?”

“Did you add the flobberworms before stirring?” Harry asked, registering the potion as a lost cause.

“Er, maybe.” Ron dumped his crushed beetles into the potion, turning it into a cement-like goo that ate up his stirrer. “Bugger!”

“That’s a goner,” Harry said, bottling his perfect potion. He gave Draco, who was sitting across the room, a beaming smile. Draco hastily turned back to his potion, deliberately positioning himself so he wouldn’t have to look at Harry anymore.

As Harry turned back to the front of the room and to observing Severus making his rounds, he caught sight of Neville’s potion, which looked dangerously agitated. It looked like it was going to explode any second now.

On cue, Neville’s cauldron exploded, sending everyone diving under their tables. Severus furiously waved the smoke away as he approached a trembling Neville.

“Detention, Longbottom! This is the  _sixth_  cauldron you have exploded so far and I fail to see how anyone can be so incompetent as to ruin an elementary fourth-year potion!”

“Y-yes, P-P-Professor,” Neville stammered, covered with the remnants of the botched Laugh-inducing Potion he had been making.

Severus stalked over to Ron’s cauldron now and glared imperiously at the mess. “Useless, Weasley.  _Evanesco_.” With a wave of his wand, the potion disappeared, including the stirrer that it had been trying to eat. Severus glanced over at Harry’s cauldron, frowned upon seeing its perfect state, and left without saying a word.

“Greasy git,” Ron muttered, scowling at the teacher’s retreating back. “You notice he didn’t say a thing about your potion?” He glanced into Harry’s cauldron. “How’d you get it perfect anyway?”

“Studying,” Harry admitted. He would still be a mediocre Potions student if it weren’t for Severus’s tutoring. Now he had all the instincts of a low-grade Potions master and could make any potion if given the right ingredients.

As his potion had been completed fifteen minutes before the end of class, Harry used the time to browse through his Potions textbook or look up at Severus, catching the black-haired wizard looking at him oddly several times.

It gave Harry the impression that he had something on his face. Suspicious, Harry went to rub at his face.

“Something wrong?” Hermione asked, adding the last ingredient to her potion.

“I don’t have something on my face, do I?” Harry whispered. “Se-Snape keeps staring at me.”

Hermione inspected his face carefully and shook her head. “You’re good.”

Confused, Harry packed his Potions book away and began clearing his materials from the desk.

When Severus dismissed class after the bell had rung, he called, “Potter, stay behind.”

Hermione and Ron shot him worried looks, but he nodded to show that he’d be fine. “I’ll meet you at lunch,” he said in a low voice.

When his friends left and closed the classroom door behind them, Harry walked up to the desk. Even if Severus hadn’t held him back, he would have made up some sort of excuse; he needed to talk to the man and this was the first opportunity he had to do so.

Reminding himself to not call him by his given name, Harry started, “Professor—”

He was cut off as Severus suddenly pointed a wand directly at his chest. Reflexively, his own wand jumped into his hand and shoved into Snape’s chest over the desk, knuckles white around the grip as he struggled not to drop—

His fingers didn’t spasm or lose all feeling. There wasn’t a tingling feeling surging up his arm either.

With a small exhale, Harry relaxed his grip slightly until it was back to normal.

Severus’s eyes flicked downwards towards the threatening object and back up to meet Harry’s, narrowing imperceptibly. He didn’t seem to have noticed anything else. “Explain yourself,” he snapped.

“I’m sorry?” Harry’s eyebrows rose.

“Where is Potter?”

This time Harry’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. “Wait… You think I’m not me – er, Harry?”

“Potter does not know Occlumency and is an absolute dunce at Potions, which you would have known had you bothered to do your homework before taking his place,” Severus said shortly. “Now, you will explain yourself before I curse you to oblivion and fetch the Headmaster.”

Harry swore silently, having completely forgotten to lower his Occlumency shields. Unlike Severus, he was unable to pretend that he  _wasn’t_  Occluding; for him, it was either all or nothing. And since he’d been at Hogwarts, he’d been Occluding at full force to stop himself from drawing his wand at every person jostling him. (Plus, there was the whole “it’s a habit” thing to consider.)

But, first things first…

“Well, Professor, I  _do_  know Occlumency,” Harry said slowly, not moving his wand. “I have also improved in Potions – dramatically. Lastly, you could curse me, but I don’t think it’d take.”

“Do you know who I am?” Severus hissed, his wand sending a pulse of heat through Harry’s body.

Harry ignored it as it wasn’t anything dangerous. “Severus Snape, Potions professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft of Wizardry. Former Death Eater and now spy of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. You publicly covet the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, but it’s a little known secret that it’s merely an act. You’re brilliant at Potions and Defense, although you have no desire to teach Defense because of the curse on the position.”

Severus’s eyes had narrowed throughout Harry’s little diatribe. “You are digging your own grave. Potter knows none of that aside from a few little tidbits.”

Harry gave a small smirk. “Fourteen-year-old Harry Potter might not have, but I’m a different story altogether.”

This time there was no mistaking the malicious intent escaping the end of Severus’s wand. Harry hastily raised a shield, which blocked the curse but sent him flying back into the opposite wall.

“ _Muffliato_ ,” he said loudly, hoping Severus had heard him. He gave his wand an extra swish as he added another silencing and locking charm on top of that.

“Where did you learn that spell?” Severus demanded, pointing his wand at Harry.

“From your old Potions textbook, sixth year,” Harry answered truthfully. “Would you mind letting me explain at least, Severus?”

The familiar use of his friend’s name turned out to be a grievous mistake, as Harry found himself ducking a purple curse that Severus shot his way. So he had to  _duel_  him now?

No sooner had he thought this was he assaulted by a range of curses from Snape. Harry threw up a permanent shield and used the time to position himself more favorably. Being backed up against the wall didn’t do much for maneuvering purposes.

When Severus paused for a split-second in his casting, Harry struck with a Stunner. The red spell shot over Severus’s shoulder as he stepped to the side. That wasn’t the last of it as Harry quickly followed up with a range of other spells, all performed without a word, and all purposefully missing Severus.

Severus scowled heavily as he found himself on the defensive. “Another black mark against you, imposter. Potter can’t duel silently, if at all!”

“For God’s sake”—Harry ducked a lucky shot Severus got in—“if you’re so convinced that I’m not Harry bloody Potter, ask me a security question!” He flicked his wand at a yellow spell Severus shot his way and it was redirected to the ceiling, where debris rained down between them. “We’re wrecking your classroom, and I  _know_  how sensitive some of these potions are!”

Severus didn’t let up on his attacks as he growled, “Fine. What were the answers to the three questions I asked Potter in his first ever Potions class?  _Impedimenta_!”

Absentmindedly, Harry thought that Severus’s attacks would go over so much better if he would stop saying the spells aloud. The greater part of his mind was more focused on answering the question, though. It was something he’d never forgotten as the humiliation and painful confusion from that first class was emblazoned in his mind.

“In order”—Harry conjured a block of stone to block a red Stunner—“the Draught of Living Death”—he batted aside another curse—“in the stomach of a goat”—he levitated a table to block a particularly nasty curse that would make him think he was being roasted alive—“and the last answer is they’re the same plant and it’s called aconite.”

Severus didn’t pause in his casting, leading Harry to raise his wand and summon a strong  _Protego_. “I answered it!”

“Everyone in that class heard the answers to those questions,” Severus said, smirking nastily.

Harry rolled his eyes upward. “Of course. Positively  _Slytherin_ , Severus. I’d applaud you if you weren’t currently trying to curse me into an early grave.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed as he tried to penetrate the shield Harry was keeping up. “Do you really expect me to believe that you’re a  _time_  traveler when that’s impossible?”

“And I thought it was impossible for a formerly dead Dark Lord to suddenly revive himself and become a pain in my arse for the next eleven years,” Harry said reasonably. “Really, Severus, we’re doing  _magic_. Nothing’s impossible.”

“It would create a paradox!” Severus snapped. “ _Confringo_!”

Harry dropped the shield and batted the curse aside. “ _Expelliarmus_!” Directly on the heels of that spell he sent another  _Expelliarmus_ , this one silent.

“Speaking aloud now?” Severus sneered, blocking the Disarming Spell. He was promptly Disarmed by the second one and his wand went flying through the air to be snatched by a triumphant Harry.

“There now,” Harry said pleasantly, training his wand on a furious Severus. “Now don’t be like that…I’m not going to curse you. That was never my intention. If you hadn’t held me back I would’ve stayed behind anyway because I need to tell you something.”

Severus stood very still. “Enlighten me.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said brightly, taking a seat on a desk he quickly repaired. “Let me start by saying that I am neither my father nor my mother. I in no way condone what my father did to you in your school years. Hell, I’m sorry for what happened between you and my mother.”

“Don’t—”

Harry flicked his wand deliberately to the side, cutting Severus off, who eyed him warily. “Please don’t interrupt. I know you messed up. I also know you’re sorry about it and that you’ve tried to make up for it. Regardless, that’s not what I’m trying to say.” He took a breath. “I apologize for what my father and godfather did. Incidentally,” he continued, “Sirius Black is innocent and Peter Pettigrew is a slimy little rat whose only aim in life is bowing down to Tom.”

Severus’s eyes widened imperceptibly. “How did you—?”

“Like I said, I  _am_  Harry Potter. I’m just not the same one. I grew up, fought a war, and am still fighting a war. Did that little tidbit of information convince you?”

Severus inclined his head rather grudgingly. “I’m listening.”

Harry smiled. “Super. Now I’m aware that you’re laboring under quite a few misconceptions. One of which is that I’m arrogant – which I prefer not think myself as”—Snape snorted disbelievingly—“but I am confident in my skills. I know when to back off; the Sorting Hat did want to put me in Slytherin initially. You can check with Dumbledore on that. The second misconception you have is that I grew up spoilt and in a household that doted on me. You found out later that I have never had loving relatives aside from my parents. The Dursleys abused me by locking me up in a cupboard, retaining food, and treating me like a house-elf.”

Severus’s eyebrows had risen significantly throughout the course of Harry’s confession. “And you expect me to believe this?”

“Not immediately, no. I’ve too much faith in your abilities to expect that you’d just swallow my tale like that.” He switched Severus’s wand over to his right hand and rummaged around in his robes, coming up with a vial that he floated over to Severus.

Severus inspected it carefully before grasping it. It was filled with a silvery substance. “Memories, Potter?”

Relieved that Severus seemed to have partly accepted his story, Harry gave a nod. “You can ask Dumbledore for his Pensieve; I know he lends it to you on occasion. Those memories should answer most of the questions you have. When you’re done viewing them and had time to absorb what they show, come find me and we’ll talk.”

Severus studied Harry carefully, eyes unreadable. “Why me?”

Harry graced him with a soft smile that only the Severus from the future had been privy to. “Because you’re my most trusted friend and advisor. You’re my mentor. Those dueling skills I just exhibited? They’re thanks to  _your_  coaching; yours and Filius’s but mostly yours. After that, it was all the life and death situations I was put in that led to them further developing.”

Severus’s face didn’t change. “Why not Dumbledore, Potter?”

Harry’s eyes darkened. “Although I’ll always respect him as a wizard and trust him with my life in a duel, I can’t trust him with matters like I can with you. You, on the other hand—”

“What makes you think I won’t run to him right now and tell him everything you’ve just said and show him this?” Severus held up the vial.

“Because I trust you,” Harry said simply, clearly taking Severus by surprise with the utter conviction in his tone. “I trust you like I trust no other aside from Ron and Hermione.” He reconsidered that statement and shook his head. “No…I trust you even  _more_  because of what we’ve both been through. You’re not the Severus I remember, but you’re the same man.”

Harry studied Severus carefully and approached him, laying Severus’s wand on the desk. “Like I said before, come find me when you’ve viewed those memories. But do so soon; there are things that I need to do that I can’t do alone.”

That said, Harry turned back to the exit and waved his wand above his head, releasing the silencing and locking charms he’d placed on the room. Then he retrieved his belongings with a silent Summoning Charm and left, leaving a pensive and shocked Severus Snape in the middle of his wrecked classroom.

It was a miracle that the potions the class had made were still intact.

* * *

**July 31, 1999**

“Like the cake, Severus?”

Severus looked up to see Harry grinning at him, a slice of cake on his own plate. Severus simply looked down on his barely touched cake slice, testament to how he felt.

“I’m sorry. Should I have told Molly to make something else?” Harry asked, taking a seat across from Severus. “I know you don’t like cake…”

“What was it that prompted you to reach that conclusion?”

“The cake we made for you on your birthday.”

Severus gave a noncommittal noise and discreetly put the cake to the side. Harry nabbed it and shoved it onto his own plate, earning himself a scandalous glare from Severus.

“What?” Harry took a forkful of the delectable treat and put it in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “You don’t want to have Molly see that you’re not eating and wondering if you’re all right. You’re still too skinny for her tastes.”

“I assure you, I have been eating,” Severus said disdainfully.

Harry gave a laugh. “Of that I have no doubt. My cooking’s not that bad.” In response to Severus’s raised eyebrow he hastily added, “And neither is yours. It’s quite great actually. Must come from being a Potions master.”

Severus gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like “ _Liar,_ ” earning a forkful of cake for his efforts. He glared at Harry, who was grinning cheekily at him.

“My apologies, Severus,” Harry said cheerfully. He pointed his wand at the mess on Severus’s robes. “ _Scourgify_.”

Severus quit glaring at Harry as the mess on his robes disappeared magically, his gaze softening imperceptibly but enough so that Harry noticed. Harry gave Severus a soft, somewhat shy smile.

“Thanks for the book,” Harry said.

“You’ve already thanked me,” Severus said, leaning back in the chair.

Harry listened to the joyful chattering in the kitchen before returning his attention to Severus. “Yes, but I haven’t told you yet how much it means to me. That you’d give me something so personal—”

Severus cut him off, “You’ve…you’ve helped me a great deal over the last year. It’s the least I could do for you.”

He knew how much it had cost Severus to make such an admission and knew that the best way to handle it would be to gloss over it. Granting Severus a rueful look, Harry sighed. “Would it kill you to use my name? Just because I told you to stop calling me Potter doesn’t mean you don’t call me by  _anything_. I do have a name: it’s Harry.”

Severus smirked. “Very well, Harry.”

Harry raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Wait…that’s it? All that fuss for nothing?”

“You never asked,” Severus said delicately. “You just told me to stop calling you Potter.”

“And so you did.” Harry groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Sneaky Slytherins,” he muttered.

“You were almost a Slytherin yourself,” Severus reminded him.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still grouse about how sneaky you are,” Harry retorted. “I know Gryffindors can be brash and I’ll admit it, too. The same goes for Ravenclaws being bookworms and Hufflepuffs being loyal.”

Severus inclined his head to acknowledge Harry’s point. They sat back in companionable silence for a moment, listening to the ruckus from the kitchen as the Weasleys made a general nuisance of themselves.

“Your Auror training has ended, hasn’t it?” Severus asked finally.

“Yeah, it has.” Harry finished the last of his cake and put the plate aside. “I’ve learned a lot that I didn’t know before.”

“Was it their decision or yours that led to you having a crash course in the career?”

“Mine. I already knew most of the information they expect Aurors to know. I just needed more info on the spells and legalities. That didn’t take very long.”

“And what the Golden Boy wants done is what will happen,” Severus murmured.

Harry scowled playfully at him. “Oh sod it, Severus! That’s not how it went at all and you know it.”

Severus smirked and probably would have graced Harry with a rare chuckle if Molly hadn’t chosen that moment to step in.

“Everything all right, Harry dear?” Molly asked cheerfully.

“Fine, Molly, thanks. The cake’s delicious.”

Molly smiled at him and turned to Severus, looking slightly uncertain as to how to address him. It had only been a few hours since he’d arrived and not much interaction had transpired between him and the rest of the family as Harry had been the only one visiting him since Christmas. “And how are you, Severus?”

“Perfectly fine, Molly,” Severus said rather stiffly. “The cake…was more than acceptable.”

“Hmm…” Molly sounded highly skeptical but since Severus’s plate was scraped clean courtesy of Harry, she really couldn’t find fault with him.

Harry shot Severus a wink from behind Molly’s back and Severus had to stop his lips from quirking up into a small smile. It really wouldn’t do to lose his calm demeanor; it would probably give the Weasley matron a heart attack at seeing Severus Snape, dour Potions master, smile.

It was as Ron and Hermione entered the sitting room that something happened.

Suddenly, Harry felt as if something that he’d never known was missing opened up. His head felt light and airy and not quite there. There was a numb tingling running through his body, originating from his scar.

Numbly, Harry staggered to his feet, his pale countenance striking alarm in Molly, Ron, Hermione, and Severus. His hand was pressed to his scar and his eyes glassy.

Although Harry could hear the concerned voices of his friends and see their worried faces, he found that he couldn’t listen to them. His concentration was turned inward as he felt his consciousness fleeing down a tunnel that had opened up.

Panicking, Harry tried to break free but found that he couldn’t. He was aware that he was standing in the sitting room of the Burrow, someone tugging anxiously at his arm, but he was also aware that he was suddenly  _burning hot_.

Gasping, Harry pulled away from the faint sensation of being touched but all that seemed to accomplish was to bring him closer to that agonizing heat that felt like it was burning his skin off. He tried to wrench away from the heat but couldn’t; something was physically pulling him towards it.

“ _Harry…_ ” a hideously familiar voice whispered into his ear.

No! He was dead, wasn’t he? He’d seen the body fall with his own eyes, heard the fire as it devoured his cursed body, and accepted with relief the vanquished connection between the two.

Harry suddenly found himself in front of a face so horrible he couldn’t bear to look upon it for longer than a second. Although he could remember nothing else when he later recalled the incident, he would always remember the burning hatred those awful eyes held: the hatred that seemed to encompass all humanity.

And with a  _whoosh_ , Harry found himself suddenly staring Voldemort right in the eyes before something pulled him away and he woke up in a familiar place. But it was not his body and he was not in control as he stood majestically in the empty Great Hall of Hogwarts, the wards around him blaring loudly.

The horrible taint of Voldemort’s mind caressed Harry’s horrified one as a mother would a child. “ _Oh, Harry… Did you miss me?_ ”

With a slam of powerful Occlumency shields that were not his own, Harry was flung out of Voldemort’s mind with a taunting shout ringing in his mental ears. “ _Happy Birthday, Harry!_ ”

When he came to in his own body, he was staring blankly up at the ceiling, Severus hovering directly above him with the Weasleys surrounding him in a circle.

“Harry?” Severus asked hesitantly.

Harry gave a great shudder and fell unconscious, the only feeling resonating through his body that of deep despair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think about Harry's conversation with Severus? There's going to be more regarding this encounter in Chapter 6. Let me know what you thought! :)


	6. Regaining a Friend

**October 31, 1999**

“Aargh!” Harry twisted around in his sheets and fell out of bed, hitting the ground with a hard thump. Shaking and shivering, he scrambled around for his glasses and put them on his nose. His wand was next, which he had hidden under his pillow.

“Another nightmare, Harry?” Ron looked out from behind the curtains surrounding his bed.

“Y-yeah…” Harry wiped his sweaty forehead, fingers lingering over his scar, which tingled with a strange numbness the way it had ever since his birthday.

Ever since Lord Voldemort had somehow risen from the grave in the middle of the Great Hall on Harry’s nineteenth birthday.

“Is it bad?” Ron asked quietly, leaning over his knees. “What’s he doing now?”

Harry shook his head, still shivering from the nightmare he couldn’t remember. “My scar just tingles. It’s nothing like what it was before…when it felt like a hot iron poker was searing into my forehead.”

“You’re not a Horcrux anymore, though, right?”

Harry simply gave a small nod, rubbing his forehead in irritation. “I’m going out. I need some air.”

“Be careful,” Ron warned. “Take your cloak.”

Grabbing said Invisibility Cloak, Harry pulled on his shoes and exited the bedroom he and Ron were sharing. It led him to a common area, where he found that he wasn’t alone.

Severus looked up from the book he was reading, raising an eyebrow upon seeing Harry’s dress. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

Harry decided that he’d much rather spend some time with Severus rather than go wandering around the dark halls of Hogwarts, where’d he be reminded of the last fight against Voldemort. He sat down across from Severus, folding his cloak in his lap. “I don’t see what he does.”

“Is that so bad?”

“No but…” Harry growled lowly. “It’s  _frustrating_. I know I’m there…there in his head…but it’s like a wall’s up. I can’t see a bloody thing but everything’s hot; it’s burning me from the inside out. I almost prefer the visions; at least I could  _see_  what was happening.”

Severus laced his fingers together over the book he’d closed. “From what you describe, it appears that the Dark Lord is employing Occlumency against you.”

Harry frowned. “But wouldn’t that block me out entirely?”

“It would…if he were using the normal kind. I suspect he’s torturing you by pulling you into his mind but not allowing you to see what he’s doing.”

Harry slumped in his seat, pressing his face into his hands. He was so bloody  _tired_  that it wasn’t funny. Voldemort had been absolutely quiet since his return. The only reason they – and by that he meant the Order of the Phoenix – knew he was back was because he’d appeared in the middle of the Great Hall, setting off Hogwarts’ wards as he did. The rest of the world was blissfully ignorant of the matter, as they had refused to listen to reason.

At the moment, Harry was treading on very thin ground politically, even though Kingsley Shacklebolt was Minister. He’d retracted his Auror application at the last moment with Poppy Pomfrey’s note of ill health. There was no way his friends were going to allow him to put his life at risk by going onto the field where he couldn’t be protected.

“He’s ruining our bloody lives,” Harry muttered disgustedly, pushing his glasses up his head so he could massage his eyes. “I can’t even sleep with him pulling me into his mind; you can’t go out because he knows you’re a traitor; and the rest of us are just holed up in Hogwarts trying to figure out how the hell he came back when all the Horcruxes are gone. Damn it… _he was supposed to be dead_.”

“And so he was,” Severus said softly. “Yet he is here now.”

“And I’m supposed to beat him again? Does the bloody prophecy even apply now?”

“Since you two are still linked through that scar of yours, it would seem so. But you’re not alone, Harry; we’ll be standing right by you.”

“That’s another thing I don’t understand,” Harry said, leaning back against the chair. “I’m not a Horcrux anymore. Why am I still linked to him?”

Severus brushed a thumb across his lips, thinking. “Some things are not so easily broken. Although the initial link might have been due to the portion of his soul he inadvertently placed in you, it has continued because you  _were_  once linked. Your scar no longer flares in pain when he is around or sending you visions; instead, it tingles numbly. While the source of the pain – his soul – is gone, the link continues.”

Harry looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You’re getting to something, aren’t you?”

Severus didn’t smile. “It’s time I teach you Occlumency again.”

* * *

**October 22, 1994**

Don’t curse him. Don’t curse him.  _Don’t curse him_.

“ _Imperio_!”

Harry struggled not to draw his wand or duck the Unforgivable sent his way. He braced himself for the feeling of not caring but simply felt a faint tug on his Occlumency shields that then quickly faded away.

Crouch was staring at him expectantly out of the one blue eye that wasn’t whirling around in its socket. But nothing was happening. Harry still felt completely and utterly normal.

Aware that the class was also watching him for some reaction, Harry raised an eyebrow. “Did the curse even take, sir?”

The question Harry asked seemed to flummox Crouch while sending the class into a furor of whispers.

“What do you mean did it take?” Crouch growled.

“I didn’t feel anything different,” Harry explained. “I just heard you cast the curse, Professor.”

Crouch’s – or rather Moody’s – magical eye was whirling madly in its socket. Grinning maniacally, the Defense teacher turned to the class. “Potter’s immune, class. You get the rare individual with a will strong enough to throw off the Imperius before it even takes hold; Potter is one of those. And so – CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” With a swing of his wand, Crouch swung his wand in Harry’s direction. “ _Imperio_!”

Off guard and acting instinctively, Harry couldn’t help the fact that he flicked his wand out and Summoned the nearest desk to block the curse. Gaping, Neville found himself bereft of his desk.

“Sorry, Professor,” Harry muttered, letting the desk drop to the ground with a thump. He did his best to sound contrite but didn’t think he’d quite gotten the tone down; it had been a while since he’d last had to be contrite about anything.

Crouch seemed oddly satisfied at Harry’s lightning fast reflexes. He faced the class once again, which was unabashedly gaping at Harry. “Potter’s got the right idea,” the Death Eater disguised as an Auror growled, eyeing Harry appreciatively in a way that made the younger wizard want to barf. “He’s got the idea of CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he roared, causing everyone to jump and Harry’s wand to twitch upward.

By the end of Defense, Harry was twitching nonstop and wishing that he could curse Crouch to hell and back without blowing his cover. Was it too late to change his plans?

* * *

The day after the Defense lesson with the imposter Moody that revealed his apparent immunity to the Imperius Curse – which he hadn’t known before since no self-respecting Death Eater would  _Imperius_  the boy who could throw off  _Voldemort’s_  Imperius Curse – Harry knew that it was time for a meeting with Severus.

He knew Severus had seen the memories only days after receiving them, but he’d left his friend alone because he needed time to absorb the information. If  _Harry_  had been the one to receive such a bombshell by his most hated nemesis’s son, he’d want to be left alone for a while so he wouldn’t blow up.

But since Severus had received the memories at the beginning of September and considering that it was now the middle of October, Harry reckoned that he’d had long enough to absorb the information. Time was running short, especially if he was to get cracking on the remaining Horcruxes and another possible way to defeat Voldemort.

When the Potions lesson of that particular day rolled around, Harry found himself bored stiff as Severus lectured them all on an antidotes, something he knew forwards and backwards due to the danger of ingesting poisons during the war. He did rouse himself slightly upon hearing Severus threaten the class with testing the antidote on one of them by the end of next week.

The professor didn’t glance once Harry’s way but Harry knew he needed to talk. He’d seen the sign for “need to talk” that they’d developed years down the road (a hand running down the robes for Severus and through the hair for Harry); apparently Severus had picked it up from the memories and was incorporating it now.

The fact that Severus was finally taking the initiative made it much easier for Harry to make up some sort of excuse for meeting him without seeming like a presumptuous arse.

When class was dismissed, Harry deliberately fell over his feet to knock over a cabinet of ingredients in the corner. The obstruction fell on the floor and shattered, spilling valuable ingredients everywhere.

Severus stormed over to Harry, who did a marvelous job of appearing suitably terrified. “Detention, Potter!” he growled in a low voice. “Tonight at eight.”

“It was an accident!” Harry protested for good measure.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek!” Severus snapped, swishing his robes around with a dramatic flair as he stalked back to the desk. “Clean up that mess before you leave!”

Harry stood standing there for a moment, nodding at Ron and Hermione to leave, before he turned his attention to the mess. He gave his wand a flick and repaired the shattered jars, righted the cabinet, and salvaged the ingredients that hadn’t been too badly damaged, storing them where they belonged. The rest he Vanished; he  _Scourgified_  the floor for good measure and left the area squeaky clean.

“I’ll see you tonight, Professor,” Harry said quietly.

Severus waved tiredly at Harry, his other hand covering his face.

Silently, Harry closed the classroom door behind him and walked slowly out of the dungeons. He hadn’t told Severus that he couldn’t exit the memories until they’d all played out. He had to add that safeguard to ensure that Severus saw  _everything_. If he’d told Severus that, then Severus would never have agreed to look at them.

Although he knew it had been necessary, Harry regretted the subterfuge.

* * *

That evening at eight o’clock, Harry met Severus in the Potions classroom. He took one look at his friend and abruptly threw his Invisibility Cloak around the man, twisting the magic so it would turn him invisible.

Severus’s “Potter!” sounded more shocked than angry.

“We can’t talk about it here,” was all Harry said. “I know a good place where we won’t be overheard. Just keep close behind me; that cloak’ll keep you hidden from  _all_  eyes – magical ones included.”

Then, making sure that Severus remained behind him, Harry led him to the seventh floor and the Room of Requirement. The room that the Room of Requirement provided turned out to have a fireplace, was decorated in neutral blue and brown colors, and had two squashy armchairs situated right by the fire.

Harry took the cloak off Severus and bundled it up for later use. When Severus sat, still very quiet, Harry used the opportunity to order something from the kitchens, which promptly arrived. He pressed the cup of tea he’d ordered into Severus’s trembling hands.

It was as the warmth of the cup touched Severus’s cold hands that the man spoke. “Why me?”

Harry looked at him in confusion. “Why—”

“Why trust me? You know I betrayed your parents; you know that I actually  _served_  the Dark Lord. Why did you choose to trust me?”

Harry sat back in his chair. “So this whole entire time you’ve just been worried about why I chose to trust you? Do you think my judgment’s false?”

Severus didn’t meet Harry’s eyes. “Considering what you showed me in these memories”—he procured the vial and set it on the table besides his chair—“I have trouble believing that you would trust me of all people.”

Harry sighed, resting an elbow on the armrest to massage his right temple. “Trust that I do, Severus.”

Severus’s eyes flashed at that. “I am not your friend, Potter. I am not the person who was killed.”

“I may not be  _your_  friend but you are  _mine_ ,” Harry said firmly. “You’re not the same person I watched die before me”—Severus’s face remained impassive—“but you’re the same man. You’ve already changed; hell, even the version  _I_  knew changed. But fundamentally, you’re the same person. The Severus of the future was still snarky, absolutely brilliant at Potions and Defense, and reluctant to trust. Although the memories I showed you only have a small portion of the actual story, trust me when I say that it took me a  _long_  while before you came anywhere close to trusting me with your life story.”

Severus’s black eyes searched Harry’s green ones for a few moments before he finally nodded.

Relieved, Harry reached for the vial and took it in hand. “Any questions on what you viewed?”

Severus’s gaze flickered to the vial. “Moody is an imposter?”

“Yes.”

“What are your intentions regarding that and the tournament?”

“When it comes to Crouch putting my name in the goblet, I’m not going to do anything. It’d be tipping my hand too early and changing too many things. As it stands, Tom isn’t going to be doing anything until the third task.”

Severus nodded slowly. “I assume you have already planned out what you will be doing for the next year.”

“As far as the tournament goes, yes I have. I’m not concerned with classes. I have other things to take care of.”

The Potions master’s face darkened. “The Horcruxes.”

“Yes.” Harry’s hand came up to rub his scar. “I’ve already destroyed the one that was hidden in this room. Unfortunately, there was a complication.”

“Complication?”

“I’m too sensitive to the destruction.”

“Ah, yes,” Severus murmured. “Your connection…”

“Right. And that’s where  _you_  come in, Severus.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’d be willing to help?”

Harry grinned. “For one thing, I know you: you have just as much invested in Tom’s destruction as I do. For another, you can’t just let me run off and do my own thing. It would go against your principles.”

“My principles, as you say, do not extend to a thirty-year-old manipulative time traveler,” Severus said coolly. “One Albus is more than enough.”

Ruefully, Harry gave an apologetic nod. “I did tell you I was almost put in Slytherin. I knew you wouldn’t look at the memories if I told you what I did, and I also knew that you’d hold off on watching them once starting. I apologize for the deception…although you would have done the same.”

“I have no doubt that I would have,” Severus acknowledged. “Now, as my responsibility, will you inform me as to what you have planned for the destruction of the Horcruxes?”

Harry leaned forwards, his eyes gleaming. “The diadem and diary are destroyed. That just leaves the cup, the locket, the ring, and Nagini. Now, I have absolutely no clue as to where the cup would be if it isn’t in Bellatrix’s vault. The locket and the ring are in accessible locations. Nagini, on the other hand, will have to be destroyed at a later point.”

“You would call Grimmauld an accessible location?” Severus asked, a note of incredulity leaking through his tone.

“It’s not under the Fidelius yet, is it?” Harry challenged. “Even if it were, the Secret Keeper told me its location last time. I could just pop in, nab the locket, and be out of there in no time.”

“And what of the Gaunt shack?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve torn down Tom’s wards before. This one’s shouldn’t be hard considering it was his first Horcrux and he wasn’t as experienced. It’ll be the trickiest, though, because Tom’s staying close by in the Riddle Manor.”

Severus gave a noncommittal noise and sipped his tea, lost in thought for a moment. Harry recognized the fact that he was lost in darker memories and most likely those that had led to him behaving so strangely.

Finally, Severus spoke in a low hoarse voice. “I killed Albus.”

“It was arranged between the two of you.”

“I almost died.”

“You lived.”

“The Dark Lord did not stay dead.”

“And that’s something I just don’t get,” Harry admitted, sighing. “We destroyed  _all_  the Horcruxes. There was nothing tying him to this life. That begs the point:  _How the hell did he come back_?”

Severus set his tea cup aside. “It would seem he had some otherworldly allies on his side.”

“You’re saying a bunch of ghosts got together and gave him a second chance at life?”

“That would be the most acceptable explanation,” Severus conceded, earning himself an incredulous stare from Harry. “Shut your mouth, Potter, before you swallow some pitiful insect.”

Harry glared at Severus, not shutting his mouth as it hadn’t even been open in the first place. “Snarky comment aside, I suppose you have nothing else?”

Severus met Harry’s eyes meaningfully. Harry forced himself to drop all his shields to let the other know that he was completely and utterly sincere. With his thoughts exposed to the outside world and his connection open, Harry felt a numb tingle cross his scar before Severus finally nodded.

“When do you want to start?”

Harry shot Severus a brilliant smile. “How about tonight? The ring’s first on the list so I hope you have your boots on hand.”

* * *

“How do you propose we get there, Potter? The shack is thousands of miles away from Hogwarts.”

“Apparate, of course. What’d you think?”

“Don’t be foolish, boy. You’re underage!”

“What’d you think I did when I realized I was fourteen again? I removed the bloody Trace. The Ministry can’t tell squat about me now. Here’s proof:  _Lumos_.”

“We’re still by Hogwarts, you nitwit. The Ministry doesn’t pick up any magic from here.”

“Is that so? Doesn’t matter. Take my arm. I’ll Side-Along you since you don’t know where we’re going.”

“What? Potter, don’t—”

In the pitch dark of the night and half a mile outside of Little Hangleton, a loud pop broke the silence, signaling the Apparition of a wizard.

Harry released a stunned Severus’s arm, privately enjoying the look on Severus’s face.

“Fool! You could have splinched us!” Severus hissed.

“I don’t splinch,” Harry said matter-of-factly. “If someone’s about to splinch in the middle of Apparating, I catch it and fix it before it happens.”

Severus gave Harry a confused glance. “You  _fix_  it?”

Harry shook his head. “It’ll take a bit too long to explain it. I’d rather deal with the Horcrux first.”

Severus let it drop for the moment but did say, “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Of course,” Harry said, producing the two brooms he had taken before leaving Hogwarts’s grounds. “I could Apparate right to the shack, but I don’t feel comfortable doing so without scouting the area and seeing what wards there are. Tom’s nearby after all, and I’d rather not make him more aware than necessary that something’s up.”

Severus gave Harry another strange look before mounting the Cleansweep Harry had grabbed for him.

Shaking his head slightly, Harry mounted his own school broom and led the way to the shack. He knew Severus was still having trouble accepting that instead of a fourteen-year-old Harry Potter, he was a thirty-year-old adult that thought before jumping into action. Truth be told, he was surprised that things had been as easy as they were.

But then again, he supposed that being a spy had its advantages. Including believing unbelievable things without kicking up much of a fuss publicly.

Harry dismounted the broom a short distance away from the shack, making the rest of the way on foot by traversing the path he’d seen in the memory Dumbledore had shown him so long ago. Severus remained close on his heels, his wand tip lighted.

As Harry approached the Gaunt shack, his scar began tingling numbly. Although he stretched his senses out, he couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary aside from the magic protecting the shack. Trying to shake off the eerie feeling that  _something_  was watching them, Harry focused on his current task, which was not tripping over any roots.

When they reached the boundaries of the shack, Harry stopped and directed Severus to the side. “Check for traps and whatnot. I’ll run my own spells but I need a second opinion.”

As Severus moved to the side, Harry closed his eyes and raised his wand, focusing on the magic he could feel woven around the shack. As he’d suspected, there were numerous traps and other curses interwoven into the wards but nothing as serious as what he’d faced in the future.

Focusing directly on the signature that was prevalent in the magic, Harry grabbed hold of his own magical signature and  _twisted_. When it was done, he wove his wand in a pattern of intricate maneuvers before whipping it down in a straight movement. With a silent ripple, the air around the shack shimmered as the wards Voldemort had placed over it years ago released.

Exhaling slowly, Harry released the hold on his magical signature and shuddered as it settled back into its natural state. No matter how many times he performed that particular trick, it never got any easier.

He was startled when a rough hand grabbed him by the shoulder and whipped him around. Unthinkingly, Harry jabbed his wand into the other’s chest, a Stunning Spell on his lips before he realized that it was Severus, who’d frozen at the retaliation.

He dropped the wand. “Don’t startle me like that.”

Severus recovered seemingly quickly. “What did you just do, Potter?” he hissed angrily. “The Dark Lord—”

“He’s not here,” Harry interrupted. “I’d know if he was. What is it?”

Severus glared and shoved his left arm at Harry, pulling up his sleeve. Harry looked uncomprehendingly at the faded Mark on his friend’s arm. It looked perfectly normal to him…by which he meant that he expected it to be in this particular state considering Voldemort’s current form.

“Yes?”

Severus looked down at the mark and frowned. “It was burning,” he said, hastily pulling down his sleeve. “When I looked, it was as clear as the time the Dark Lord was active.”

Harry blinked and realized what had happened. “Oh. Sorry. That was me.”

“ _You_?”

Harry nodded, making his way to the unprotected shack. He screwed up his nose at the tacky doorstopper – a dead and shriveled up snake – and opened the door with a flick of his wand. He wasn’t touching it if he could help it.

Severus remained on Harry’s heels. “How was that you, Potter?”

Harry shot him an irritated look. “Would it kill you to call me by name, Severus? And by that I mean  _Harry_.”

Severus sneered. “Unlike you, Potter, I have not had the courtesy of being friends for years. I believe your story but that does not grant us familiarity.”

Harry sighed. “Suppose it was too much to ask at the moment. Now shush.”

Severus scoffed at Harry’s command but obliged.

Concentrating, Harry sensed for the Horcrux that would be located somewhere nearby. He followed the tingle in his scar and slowly approached a section of the floor. With a silent  _Diffindo_  after checking for further traps – of which there were none since he’d deactivated everything earlier – Harry tore up the wooden boards.

There was a small box located under the floor and Harry carefully levitated it out. He set it aside on the floor, Severus kneeling down across from him.

“As you’ve already figured out, Tom and I have a connection,” Harry explained in a low voice. “I can sense his Horcruxes and his presence as well.”

He unlocked the box and opened it, levitating the ring that rested inside it. Closing the box, Harry put the ring on top of it, recognizing the Resurrection Stone that was set inside the band.

Severus recognized it as well. “Is that—?”

“The Resurrection Stone,” Harry murmured, poking it with his wand. “The second of the Deathly Hallows.” His fingers hovered over it as he felt its magic. “It’s not part of the Horcrux. I didn’t think that Death would allow his creations to be used for something as meager as a Horcrux.”

“How will you take it out of the ring?”

Harry looked up at Severus through his fringe. “Remember what happened earlier with your Dark Mark? No, of course you do,” he continued before Severus could nod or give a scathing reply. “Well, that’s because of ‘ _the power the Dark Lord knows not_.’” Harry put up a hand before Severus could say anything. “Come on. We should get out of here before I explain.”

It took Harry another minute to put up the wards the way they’d been before and after that it was another five to fly back and Disapparate to Hogsmeade. From there, they took the brooms back to the broom sheds and went up to the Room of Requirement. It was two in the morning by the time they were comfortably ensconced in the armchairs.

There was silence for a few moments before Harry smirked and said, “Well? Aren’t you going to ask?”

Severus scowled at him but proceeded to ask, “Was this power not supposed to be love?”

Harry gave a bark of laughter. “ _Love_? Ah, right… That’s what Dumbledore told me fifth year when I learned of the prophecy. Well, I’ll give you that  _love_  is certainly not a concept that Tom is familiar with. But that’s not it. If it was it, I would’ve defeated him the first time around. No…I think something was missing. Something critical that  _would_  have ended the war when I was seventeen.”

“Then?” Severus prompted.

Harry sighed, looking over at the Horcrux they had obtained. “I don’t know what the power ‘ _the Dark Lord knows not_ ’ is, but I know it’s not love,” he said quietly. “Dumbledore – for all his wisdom – is ridiculously sentimental when it comes to such things. He didn’t live long enough to actually see anything through. Now, about that Dark Mark of yours…”

Harry frowned, trying to find a way of putting this into words so that it didn’t sound completely insane. “I know you’re familiar with the concept of a magical core. But what you don’t know is that it’s possible to twist the magic – and I mean literally  _twist_  it – so that it resembles someone else’s core. So, if I were to twist my magic in a certain way, I could make it seem like Tom Marvolo Riddle – or the Dark Lord – was sitting right beside you. At the shack, I twisted my signature into that of Tom’s, which was why your Mark flared. It recognized the signature as that of its creator and thought he had returned. When I let the magic go, it went back into inactivity.”

Severus frowned, his face skeptical. “Is that just for the Dark Lord?”

“No. I can do it for anyone. I could imitate your signature right now if I wanted to. I could dampen my signature so that I would register as a Squib or even as a Muggle.”

“I have the feeling,” Severus said carefully, “that you haven’t yet explained everything.”

Harry gave a smile. “You’re right, I haven’t. It’s a little something I discovered while Disapparating one time.” He was poking the ring as he was talking, carefully twisting his signature so that it resembled that of the twisted soul trapped inside the golden band. The Horcrux began to rattle violently as it sensed the soul it had once been part of, wanting to rejoin. “I Disapparated, and found that I could twist the magic of anything around me”—a purple light exited the tip of his wand and severed the Resurrection Stone from the ring—“but what happens to magical items such as Horcruxes affects me more now.” He untwisted his magical signature so it returned to normal, the Horcrux stilling.

Severus had gripped his left arm as Harry performed the operation but relaxed now. “And that’s it?”

“Well, no.” Harry held out the Resurrection Stone to his friend. “Would you like to use it?”

Severus stared at Harry as if he’d gone barmy.

Harry simply smiled and pocketed the stone. “Maybe later,” he said quietly. “But in any case”—he withdrew a basilisk fang from his robes—“we should destroy this.”

Severus gaped at the fang in Harry’s hands. “Where did you get  _that_?”

“Chamber of Secrets. I’ll bring you down there one time; there’s a dead basilisk that’s currently worth quite a lot of Galleons, especially since I put a Stasis Charm on the thing.” Harry gave Severus a serious look. “I’m going to stab the thing with this. It’s going to scream really loudly; I’ve soundproofed the room this time so no sound should escape. But like I said before, what happens to magical items such as this one affects me more now, especially since I’m linked to Tom. As it stands, destroying this little bugger is going to knock me out for the rest of the night…hopefully less if any potions work on me.”

“You’re in luck then, Potter,” Severus said dryly. “I have Pepperup Potion right in my pocket.”

Harry grinned, recognizing the wit for what it was. “Brilliant. Now, cover your ears. Better yet, put up a Silencing Charm.”

As Severus did as he’d requested, Harry pinned the ring to the table with his wand before releasing it and bringing the fang down with all his strength.

As the poisonous fang made contact with the cursed object, Harry felt a powerful tingle of numbness run through his scar and Occlumency shields before his world went black.

* * *

As Harry groggily returned to consciousness, he tasted a foul concoction going down his throat with a familiar burning sensation in his ears. Recognizing the Pepperup Potion for what it was, Harry forcefully gulped down the remainder and embraced the revitalizing feeling it sent through his body.

Still, that didn’t prevent him from gagging as the repercussions of last night’s bit of magic took its toll on his body. “Urgh…”

“I am glad to see that you are awake, Potter,” a dry sarcastic voice said. Only Harry could hear the undertones of worry. “This is my third vial of Pepperup Potion.”

“Oh, sod off, Severus,” Harry muttered, blearily opening his eyes. He realized he didn’t have his glasses and wandlessly Summoned them. Putting them on, he realized he was still in the Room of Requirements. A look at his watch showed that it was breakfast time.

“What did you say?” Severus asked, his tone making it perfectly clear that he’d heard.

“I said, I’ll brew you another batch of Pepperup if it’s so important to you,” Harry said, swinging his legs around and off the bed that he’d somehow made his way on. “I have to go down for breakfast.”

“What do you intend to tell your friends?” Severus asked, inclining his head towards the ring Harry had destroyed earlier that morning.

“Well, I  _was_  in detention. They’d believe me if I told them you kept me until way after curfew and refused to give me a pass so I could go back to my dormitories without getting into trouble again. I’ll just say I spent the night in the cold dungeons, moaning like a ghost and preventing you from getting any sleep.”

Severus narrowed his eyes at the impertinent Gryffindor. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really.” Harry nodded, completely serious. “You are the greasy git of the dungeons after all. Hermione might be a bit of a hard sell but Ron would totally buy it.” He rummaged around in his robe pockets and pulled out the Resurrection Stone, holding out to Severus. “Hold it in your hand and turn it over three times, thinking of the person you want to talk to. She’ll show up.”

Severus stared at the stone but didn’t take it. “What makes you think I want to talk to anyone?”

“Because I know you have regrets,” Harry said simply. “Take it, Severus. When you’re done, you don’t have to tell me what you spoke about. It’s between you and my mum. She won’t stay forever, only as long as you want her to. You can give the stone back when you’re done.”

When Severus still didn’t take it, Harry took his friend’s hand and pressed the Resurrection Stone into his palm, curling the long fingers around it. “It doesn’t have to be immediately,” he said softly. “But at least you have the opportunity now.”

Before he left, he did one more thing: He Conjured a vial out of thin air and pulled out a long stream of memories from his mind, depositing it in the vial before placing it on the table he’d destroyed the ring on.

“Potter?” Severus’s voice was hoarse.

“I know more about you than you know about me,” Harry explained quietly. “This is the best way I can repay you. This vial has all the memories of our conversations together. You can view them one at a time whenever you want. Remember…the offer’s still open if you want to call me Harry.”

That said, Harry left the Room of Requirement, leaving a very subdued Severus behind. It wasn’t much, but it was a start to what would once again be a wonderful friendship.

* * *

**November 15, 1999**

“Concentrate, Potter!  _Legilimens_!”

_Harry was nine and huddled in the cupboard, listening to the rambunctious sounds of his cousin’s birthday party…_

_He was eleven and the Sorting Hat was telling him he would do well in Slytherin…_

_He was twelve and the monstrous basilisk was facing him down…_

_He was sixteen and Dumbledore was begging for him to kill him…_

And with a forceful mental shove, Harry pushed Severus out of his mind. Panting and with a pounding headache, Harry leaned back against the desk behind him, sweating heavily. His wand was slick in his grip.

Severus looked coldly at Harry. “Pathetic, Potter. You still haven’t learnt the fine art of  _clearing_  your mind and preventing me from even entering in the first place!”

“I’m  _trying_ ,” Harry growled, rubbing his tingling scar in frustration. “I just can’t seem to understand how to  _clear_  my mind in the first place! Whenever I try, some random thought just drifts across it and there goes my concentration!”

“Try again!” Severus snapped. “I’ll give you a minute.”

Breathing deeply, Harry tried his best to focus inward and clear his mind. He’d barely gotten there when Severus again attacked.

_Severus was being attacked by Nagini…_

_Dumbledore was ordering Severus to help Draco kill him…_

_Harry was finding Severus lying on the floor of Shrieking Shack, **something**  telling him that the man was still alive—_

Harry pushed Severus out with a mental heave, flinching as his headache pulsed violently.

Severus was sneering at him now. “Just like your father, Potter. Pathetic—”

Harry exploded before he could stop himself. “ _I am not my father_! Christ, Severus! How can you even  _expect_  to teach me Occlumency if you keep  _hounding_  on what I look like and not on  _who I am_? I’m  _Harry_  Potter and not  _James_ bloody _Potter_!” Chest heaving with effort, Harry took in the stricken look on his friend’s face and decided he needed to leave. “I have to get out of here. Let me know when you’re capable – if at all – of taking this up again.”

With a whirl of his robes, Harry exited the room they had been practicing in and took a shortcut to the Hogwarts grounds that would take him out of the way of the students currently walking the halls. He went over to the lake and sat on a rocky outcrop, using his wand to create patterns in the spray.

The sun was setting before he was joined by Ron.

“You need something?” he asked, not looking up.

“No. Just wanted to see if you were doing all right.”

“I’m  _peachy_ ,” Harry muttered, giving his wand a violent flick to send a spray of water jetting out in an arc. A brilliant rainbow formed for a split-second in the rays of the sun.

“You look peachy,” Ron agreed sarcastically. “I’m guessing Legilimency lessons with Snape aren’t going well?”

“How about not at all?  _Bombarda_.” The spell caused the water to explode upwards; Harry quickly weaved it into a giant V before the spray fell back into the water.

“If you’re going to be like that, next time just make a snake,” Ron said, shuddering as he took a seat by Harry.

Sighing, Harry put his wand away. “I just don’t know what to  _do_. It’s like we’re back in fifth year and he’s reverted to derogatory insults because of something or another. I’m still getting nightmares from Voldemort”—Ron flinched and Harry rolled his eyes—“and nothing’s helping. The books he’s given me are just repeating the same garbage over and over again:  _Clear your mind_.” He scoffed. “As if I can do that so easily!”

“Well, you’ll have to anyway, won’t you?” Ron said sensibly. “Ginny’s getting really worried and so’s Hermione.”

“What about you?”

“You  _know_  I’m worried, you git,” Ron said, punching Harry in the shoulder. “You keep waking me up every night. But hell, mate, even Snape’s worried. I’ve been seeing him in the common room night after night poring over these  _really_  dusty and moldy old books. I think how he’s treating you is just how he is…”

“’Course it is. He’s  _Severus_. He wouldn’t be if he wasn’t snarky and rude. If he suddenly became all nice and sugary, I’d suspect something was up and bind him to a chair.”

Ron guffawed. “I’d pay Galleons to see that.” He sobered. “But, Harry…you see what I’m getting at?”

“He’s worried,” Harry said simply, staring out at the lake. “So am I, Ron. But how is this supposed to help if I can’t even block a  _friend_  from entering my mind? I can throw the Imperius Curse off with no problem – which Severus says is similar – but I can’t even get the basics of Occlumency down! I don’t expect to be a whiz at it or anything but  _something_  positive would be really great!”

The water churned around them with the force of Harry’s magic. He had to spend several minutes calming himself down before the water and his magic quieted.

“Maybe that’s it,” Ron said finally as the water stilled.

“What?”

“Your emotions. I mean, think about it, Harry. Snape’s normally cool, calm, and collected – unless you piss him off but that’s not something you want to do – and he’s  _great_  at Occlumency. He fooled You-Know-Who for years! You said Malfoy learned Occlumency, too, right?  _He’s_  also got the whole cool demeanor down. You, on the other hand, are a bit of a wild card. No offense, mate.”

“I take offense,” Harry said wryly. “I’m not some emotionless puppet, Ron. I can’t ever  _be_  an emotionless puppet.”

“Then don’t be. Why don’t you use your emotions as a starting point for at least  _learning_  Occlumency? Instead of  _clearing_  your mind, fill it with all the garbage you can possibly think off. Emotional garbage, I mean. Maybe that’ll get Snape out of your head faster than you can say Quidditch.”

After considering it for a moment, Harry grinned. “Where’d you get that idea from anyway, Ron?”

Ron grinned sheepishly. “Snape lent me a book after you stormed out, told me to read it, and then told me to come out here and tell you what I learned.”

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes upward. “ _Slytherins_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's conversation with Severus in the middle there gave me heaps of trouble. I had to keep Severus's reactions believable and then also take into account the fact that Harry looks fourteen, not thirty. I think I managed it...


	7. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang – Take Two

**September 1, 2000**

“Blimey, mate…hard to believe we were ever that small, eh?” Ron muttered to Harry, who was currently hidden under his Invisibility Cloak.

“I was smaller,” Harry said wryly, checking for the umpteenth time as to whether he had his wand in his new holster.

Ron wrinkled his nose in remembrance. “So you were… Say, Harry, you really think something’s going to happen today? You’ve been Occluding, right? So maybe that’s why—”

“Occlumency or not, Ron, my scar always tingles when Voldemort’s”—Ron flinched—“doing something. Since it hasn’t tingled  _once_  in the last month, I think it’s a pretty safe bet that he has something big planned. Since this is a really important day, why not now?”

“Could you not say his name?” Ron hissed. “What if it’s Taboo?”

“It’s not Taboo yet,” Hermione said, popping up next to them. “He wants to lie low and give the world a false sense of security.”

“It’s working,” Harry muttered, eyes narrowed as he inspected the station for suspicious activity. “They don’t have a clue.”

“Kingsley’s no help at all,” Ron said bitterly, picking at his sleeves. “He’s the bloody  _Minister_  and he isn’t doing a thing! All he said back in August was that he was terribly sorry but that it was a great tragedy! A  _tragedy_!” His voice choked on the last word and he had to inhale deeply, blinking rapidly.

Hermione placed a gentle hand on his arm. “But that’s the problem, Ron. He can easily be voted out with a vote of no confidence. If he’s supporting a stance as radical as saying that  _Voldemort’s_ ”—Ron flinched—“back so soon after Harry supposedly killed him—”

“Thanks, Hermione.”

“—then we  _will_  have a riot on our hands. He was just as upset as you were about what happened that day, but it’s not like he could  _publicly_  say that everyone’s worst nightmare is back.”

“Well, if Voldemort attacks today, it should be a pretty clear sign that something’s up, right?” Harry asked. “I mean, how do you cover up something like that?”

Ron rubbed his eyes furiously. “By being incredibly disgustedly Slytherin,” he said firmly, his voice thick. “He broke his Death Eaters out from Azkaban the first time and no one noticed a thing.”

“They were too busy blaming Sirius,” Harry said. Neither of his friends could see his pained face but they heard his tone.

“I’ve got to go,” Hermione murmured. “Snape can’t manage that side all by himself.”

As she slipped away, Harry whispered to Ron, “Would it kill you two to call him by his first name?”

Ron shot the invisible space where his friend was standing an amused look that was rather spoiled by his teary eyes. “He’s _your_  friend, Harry. We like him and all”—his tone suggested that was highly debatable—“but you’re his friend and he’s yours. I’m sure he just barely tolerates us.”

“He likes you,” Harry said. When Ron gave a snort of disbelief, he insisted, “No, really. He just doesn’t show it.”

“I’ll believe that when pigs fly.”

“Shall I get Minerva?” Harry teased. “I’m sure she could arrange that.”

“Why you—” Ron was cut off as the Hogwarts Express’s whistle blew, deafening both of them. “ _Bloody hell_! How come I never noticed it’s so loud?”

“Because we were always inside,” Harry suggested once the ringing in their ears disappeared. “Come on. We need to make sure we’re patrolling properly. No slacking off.”

“You’re not the only one who trained with the Aurors,” Ron grumbled, pulling out two Firebolts they had stashed away for this purpose. “You taking off your cloak?”

“Wouldn’t be much use considering I’m flying a broom,” Harry said, pulling off the hood. “Should my decapitated head strike fear into anyone?”

“It strikes fear into  _me_!”

Mirthlessly grinning at one another, Ron and Harry kicked off the platform, taking up the rear end of the train. Severus and Hermione had the front end, while other members of the Order of the Phoenix such as Ginny, Bill, and Charlie took up the middle. Harry tried not to think about why three other members of the Order weren’t there.

True to his word, Harry was simply flying as a head, although some of his body flickered into view now and then as the wind whipped at it. The broom was visible below him, along with his trainers.

Ron took a look at him and shuddered. “You know, that’s creepier than what I thought it would be.”

“Boo,” Harry said dryly.

“Ha ha.”

Nodding at each other, Harry and Ron pressed down over their brooms and kept pace with the furiously chugging train. Their eyes roved over the surrounding countryside, peeled for any attacks that might occur.

But when something happened, it occurred where they least expected it.

There was a loud explosion at the front of the train, as the engine compartment suddenly combusted into flames and the train started pouring on the speed.

Ron swore violently and pressed down hard, zooming forward in a blur of speed.

Harry slowed down slightly, trying to find where this strange feeling was coming from. It was almost as if—

There were dozens of Apparition pops around them as hooded figures in black appeared and began firing upon the train. They all had brooms as well.

“Ron!” Harry shouted, zooming towards the ground.

“On it, Harry!”

Whipping out his wand, Harry shot off five Stunners in a row, hitting all his targets and sending them hurtling towards the ground.

The children inside the train were screaming and there was spell fire on the train as well. Pressing closer to the windows, Harry could see that the prefects, sixth and seventh years, and Head Boy and Girl were giving back as good as they got. They were the ones who had seen the Final Battle between him and Voldemort and were some of the best in Defense.

Somewhat satisfied that the problem in there was being taken care of, Harry turned his attention back to the problem outside the runaway vehicle.

He whipped his handle to the side and shot between two Death Eaters, setting their brooms afire as he did. Being a floating head on a broomstick really did have its advantages.

All in all, it didn’t seem to be so bad (aside from the runaway train but Harry could see that Hermione was working on it). They were holding their own against the Death Eaters, and he had to wonder just how Voldemort had managed to recruit so many. Was he going abroad?

If he was, all they needed was the Russian Mafia and then things would be well and truly fucked.

A second later, his scar burst into violent tingling that made him so lightheaded he almost steered right into the train. He quickly jerked up the handle of the broom and suddenly found himself face to face with Voldemort, who was flying without a broom.

“Hello, Harry,” Voldemort purred, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Did you miss me?”

Harry growled at him. “Not bloody likely!  _Reducto_!”

Voldemort batted the curse aside without blinking. “You’ll have to do better than that, Harry.  _Priori Incantatem_  won’t save you now…”

Harry looked at the wand of yew Voldemort was holding and suddenly  _knew_  without a doubt that it had a heartstring of a basilisk in it. “Nice wand. Who’d you murder for it?”

Voldemort’s face twisted into fury. “Would you like to find out?”

“I’d love to, quite frankly, but I’m still trying to find out how you’re here.”

Voldemort grinned crookedly, his black robe whipping the sides of the Express that the two were still keeping pace with despite their conversation. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Harry?”

“Yeah, I  _would_!  _Expelliarmus_!” When that spell was batted aside Harry went for a silent  _Depulso_  and then followed it with a Blasting Curse. Both were blocked before Voldemort retaliated with the Killing Curse. He swooped down out of sight, only to find that a shadow was flying over him.

Not even looking up, Harry shot upwards, nearly beaning Voldemort. He whipped his wand backwards and released another Disarming Spell.

It either missed or was once again blocked.

“Pitiful, Harry!”

“ _Aresto Momentum_!”

This spell, completely unexpected as it was, hit Voldemort just as he was flying up to meet Harry. It slowed him down, but Harry couldn’t stop flying in time to stop the collision. The broom jerked out of his hands and spiraled away to somewhere Harry couldn’t see…his face was full of robes and Voldemort’s hands.

The two fell hard onto the speeding Hogwarts Express and Harry untangled himself only to find himself clutching at the sides of the train. Voldemort had saved himself as well and was standing up, bracing himself against the wind.

Grunting, Harry cast an adjusted Sticking Charm on his feet that would enable him to keep his balance and move around and stood up as well. Before he could blink, he ducked a green light that was aimed right for his head only to find that a sickly yellow light was zooming towards his face now.

“ _Protego_!” he gasped, hopefully blocking the spell. Thankfully, it fizzled out as it made contact with his shield, but the Killing Curse that was aimed his way wouldn’t be deterred.

Whipping his wand in a movement he’d picked up from Minerva days ago, Harry Transfigured the bit of the train he was standing on into quicksand and sank into it, dodging the deadly curse. He promptly Transfigured the metal back into solidity and stood on it, firing back on Voldemort.

He was pitifully outmatched, Harry realized. Voldemort was  _playing_  with him.

Harry had just sent another Blasting Curse at the Dark Lord when the bit of train he was standing on was cut with a  _Diffindo_ , slicing his feet free and sending him flying through the air.

Where the hell was his broom?

Although Harry’s broom didn’t appear, someone else stopped his freefall to his death by grabbing him by the neck of his visible robes, as he still had his Invisibility Cloak on.

“Christ, Harry,” Severus grunted, adjusting his grip. “Did you have to wear that blasted cloak?”

“It was helping before,” Harry gasped, unable to believe that he was still alive for now. “Thanks, Severus.”

“Thank me later,” Severus snapped, looking up at the Dark Lord flying towards them. “Look alive!”

“Wha –  _argh_!” Harry was thrown to the ground, thankfully only a few feet below him, as Severus did some fancy wand work and delayed Voldemort’s arrival for a few precious seconds with a shield.

Harry rolled to a stop on the ground and shakily got to his feet, making sure to deactivate the Sticking Charm as he did. The bit of train he’d ripped off with him he’d lost some hundred feet back.

Severus landed by him next, tossing aside the broom as if it was a mere Shooting Star. “I do hope you have your wand ready.”

“He was  _playing_  with me!” Harry hissed, keeping his eyes on the Dark Lord. “What makes you think it’ll be any better now?”

“You’re not alone this time. Keep that shield of yours handy and attack when you can.”

True to his word, Severus kept up the offensive while Harry blocked and threw out his own curses. Voldemort found himself hard-pressed to keep them at bay and started dueling even more ferociously.

Amidst the flashes of light from the spell fire, one of Severus’s spells suddenly went awry as Voldemort twisted it around and sent it back at him. Severus dodged to the side as Harry’s shield wouldn’t be enough to block it, almost hitting the ground if it weren’t for a  _Reducto_  gouging a large hole out of the dirt and knocking him back.

He hit the ground on his back and Harry could see from his ashen face that he’d had the wind properly knocked out of him and couldn’t move properly. Desperate, he jumped into the fray against Voldemort and began pulling all his tricks out of his hat.

“ ** _Nowhere to go, eh, Harry?_** ” Voldemort hissed.

Harry chanced a glance over his shoulder as he blocked a spell and saw that the train was gone and the Death Eaters and his friends with it. Unfortunately, the blocked spell sent a haze of smoke over the area.

Coughing, Harry used his wand to send a wave of wind through it and cleared the smoke, only to find Voldemort approaching his wayward ex-servant who was still struggling to breathe…or even move for that matter.

Fuck,  _no_! Harry shot a Blasting Curse at Voldemort’s feet and threw him over Severus. Using the distraction, he bolted towards Severus and heaved him upright.

Desperate for Severus’s and his own lives, Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated, feeling with horror and shock another hand grasp onto his arm just as he was sucked into the tube.

The squeezing and pulling sensation was worse this time as Harry could feel that  _something_  was wrong. It felt like something was tearing apart; something undeniably dear to him. At the same time, there was foul magic right by him where Voldemort had clutched his arm.

Instinctively, Harry grabbed the tearing apart feeling and thrust it towards the source of foul magic, flinging Voldemort away as he did. Then, with a ridiculously loud pop, Harry Apparated right onto Hogwarts’s grounds in the courtyard. It was the first time he had done so since Minerva had him and his friends keyed into the wards as a result of wartime concessions.

Gasping and finding himself ridiculously lightheaded, Harry released the death grip he had on Severus’s arm in favor of heaving up the little breakfast he’d had that particular morning.

When he was done, he looked up to see that Severus had recovered his wind and was staring oddly at a sight a meter away from them. Glancing over himself, Harry found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the strange sight of Voldemort’s robed and undeniably splinched arm.

Harry couldn’t help but think that  _he_  was somehow responsible for this strange state of affairs.

Apparently, so did Severus. “Congratulations, Mr. Potter. I do believe you are the first wizard who managed to successfully cause the Dark Lord to splinch himself.”

* * *

**October 30, 1994**

During the week following the eventful night that Harry had gone with Severus to destroy the Horcrux, his time had been occupied with talk of the tournament, the soon-to-arrive foreign students, and research. His classes were ridiculously easy and homework was accomplished in five minutes flat with the nifty charm. All he had to make sure of was that nothing  _too_  advanced made its way into his essays.

He hadn’t yet been able to get the locket, as Severus had told him after one Potions class that he wasn’t fourteen and couldn’t go prancing around at all times of the night.

Harry had grinned cheekily at that and said, “No, you’re thirty-four and that’s not exactly old, Severus. You’re in the prime of your life!”

Severus had shot him a scathing look, deducted five points from Gryffindor for good measure, and sent him away.

Joking aside, however, Severus hadn’t exactly been idle. Having made note of the fact that Harry wasn’t certain of where the cup could be, he’d been doing his own research based on his contacts in the old network of Death Eaters.

“If I could get into Gringotts, I would be able to sense the cup,” Harry had said one evening.

“There are millions of powerful artifacts in that bank, Potter. Unless you plan on breaking into Bellatrix’s vault again – which I would not condone considering what happened last time – you should scrap any plan that involves actually going into the bank. Unless you tell me that you know how to Apparate  _inside_  Gringotts?”

“I’m skilled, Severus, but not  _that_  skilled. I don’t know of anyone who  _could_  Apparate inside Gringotts. Do you?”

“No, Potter. It’s called the safest place to store your gold for a reason.”

That matter laid to rest, Harry found he really couldn’t do anything more on that front. How was he supposed to find out if Bellatrix had the cup in the vault? It had been pure luck last time that they had discovered it and managed to make off with it…on a dragon no less!

So here he was, in the library on the thirtieth of October, studying Runes with the hope that he’d come across something.

Sighing, Harry shoved the latest book he had pulled out back onto the shelf. It was completely over his head and he couldn’t ask Hermione for help since she’d want to know why he was interested in Runes and then he’d have to cook up some sort of explanation that didn’t make her even more suspicious than she already was.

He loved Hermione, really, but sometimes her cleverness was a hindrance.

The only other option would be Dumbledore, and Harry  _really_  didn’t want to go that route since he knew the crafty Headmaster would completely upend any and all plans he had. The man hadn’t trusted Harry with the prophecy until the end of fifth year when Sirius had been killed. What would make this time any different?

Maybe if he made Fiendfyre dance in front of him? The mental image was amusing.

Controlling Fiendfyre wasn’t really  _that_  hard once one had the practice. All it required was a certain skill level, power, and strength of will—

“ _Harry_!” Ron’s loud voice startled him, and he flicked his wand out before he could help himself. “Hey, Harry…you looking up a spell or something?”

“Err…yeah,” Harry said uncomfortably, putting his wand away. “It’s for Defense. What’d you want?”

Ron looked scandalized. “What’d I want? Don’t you remember? The delegates from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are coming tonight! McGonagall wants everyone outside so we can give them a proper Hogwarts welcome.”

“Oh.” Harry gave a mental wince as he acknowledged that yes, he  _had_  forgotten. Potions had been let out early, meaning Severus couldn’t test the antidotes on anybody, and Harry had wandered into the library without thinking.

“What are you doing in the library anyway?” Ron asked, walking with Harry outside. “You’ve been in there nonstop. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were turning into another Hermione.”

“Looking up Potions,” Harry said, having already thought of this excuse. In response to Ron’s horrified face, he added, “No, really, Ron. It just gives Snape less excuses to pull points off Gryffindor, you know?”

“He hasn’t been so bad lately,” Ron admitted reluctantly. “But still, mate… _Potions_?”

“Why not? The stuff might taste disgusting, but there’s so much you can do with it! Granted, it’s not as quick as Charms, Transfiguration, or Defense but the results can be a lot more rewarding. Look at the Wolfsbane Potion. Wouldn’t it be cool to advance that so that werewolves don’t have to transform at  _all_?”

Ron had his brow furrowed and Harry wondered if he wasn’t perhaps laying it on a bit too thickly. His fears were alleviated when Ron slowly said, “That  _would_  be pretty darn cool. Hell…it’d be a lot of studying, though, wouldn’t it?”

Harry gave a laugh at that. Only Ron would think of the studying aspect of Potions making.

They met up with Hermione outside, and she handed the boys their hats with a reproving look.

“Really, where would you be if it weren’t for me?” Hermione said.

“In second year still,” Harry said with a straight face. “Or back in that room with the Devil’s Snare.”

“You’re brilliant, Hermione,” Ron input hastily, putting on his hat crookedly.

Minerva promptly called him out. “Mr. Weasley, straighten that hat!”

Scowling, Ron tried to right the sad thing only for it to fall over again. “It won’t stand!”

Stifling a snort, Harry pulled his wand out and cast a Freshening Charm on it and then stiffened it. “That should do it.”

“You should take better care of your things, Ron,” Hermione said half-heartedly, knowing Ron wouldn’t listen.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron muttered. “It’s all secondhand stuff anyway.”

“Which is why it wouldn’t straighten,” Harry whispered to Hermione as Minerva scolded Parvati for the outrageous design at the end of her plait.

Finally, Minerva called to everyone, “Follow me, please. First years in front…no pushing…”

She led everyone down the stairs and lined them up in front of the castle, where they all fidgeted with excitement.

“Nearly six,” Ron said, checking his watch. “How d’you reckon they’re coming? The train?”

“I doubt it,” Hermione disagreed.

“Some magical way,” Harry suggested seriously, earning himself a disgusted look from Ron.

“’Course it’s going to be  _magical_ ,” Ron said. “Are they taking a Portkey? Or maybe even Apparating? Maybe they’re allowed to Apparate where they’re from even if they’re younger than seventeen…”

“You can’t Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?” Hermione said impatiently.

Harry coughed to hide a laugh. Sure you couldn’t Apparate inside Hogwarts grounds…unless you had special permission or were the Headmaster.

After several more moments of anxious debating as to how the foreign wizards would be arriving, Dumbledore finally spoke above the din. “Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!”

Peering into the sky, Harry caught sight of the weird looking carriage that the other students made wild guesses about. When it finally swooped over their heads and landed, he let a small smile cross his face at seeing Madame Maxime step out to be greeted by Dumbledore.

Shortly after the delegation from Beauxbatons came, the lake began to bubble and froth, giving way to a giant wooden ship that suddenly rose from the depths.

“Bloody hell!” Ron gaped at the sight.

“Like I said,” Harry said smugly, “some magical way.”

Ron crossly elbowed Harry in the side but seemed to forget the joke Harry had made to eagerly look over the Durmstrang students. When he saw that Viktor Krum had shown up, Ron began tugging eagerly at Harry’s robes.

“Harry, it’s  _Krum_!”

“So it is.”

“Blimey, I had no idea he was still in school!”

“Just because he’s a world famous Quidditch player doesn’t mean he doesn’t go to school, you know!” Hermione said hotly.

“But he looks so  _old_!”

“Mate, if you’re talking about age, look at Dumbledore,” Harry said. “Krum’s not that old.”

“Well…” Ron didn’t quite seem to know what to say to that. “You happen to have a quill on you, Harry? I want to get his autograph!”

“Hm…” Harry rummaged around in his robes before he procured a quill. Unfortunately, the nib was broken off and the top part of the feather was missing. “Huh… How long has that been in there?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend’s absentmindedness. “Never mind that! Come on; let’s go inside.”

Harry gave Ron the miserable looking quill and his friend stared glumly at the thing before shaking his head and letting it drift to the floor, forgotten. “He’d have a right ol’ laugh at me if I went up with  _that_.”

Harry inconspicuously Vanished the quill and caught up with Ron. “Sorry, Ron. Perhaps we could’ve used  _Reparo_?”

“It was beyond hope,” Ron said forlornly. “Think those girls would let me borrow their lipstick?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and lugged him over to the Gryffindor table where Hermione was sitting. “Sit and don’t worry. You’ll see him around.”

“The Beauxbatons girls seem to be a right sorry lot,” Hermione said, sounding rather huffy. “It’s not  _that_  cold. They could have brought cloaks!”

“Durmstrang seems happier,” Ron observed, watching as they sat with the Slytherins. “Hey, Harry…think you can get Malfoy to bring Krum over?”

Harry looked over to where Draco was talking with Krum. He caught Draco’s eye and the Slytherin paled before ducking his head. Since that day in September when he’d cornered Draco in the middle of the school, Draco had been avoiding him like the plague. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so pathetic.

“Nope. Draco’s been avoiding me. It’s like I’m contagious or something…”

“Contagious with craziness perhaps,” Hermione said, smiling in glee at the fond memory of Harry humiliating him.

“I should probably sit by him during lunch or something,” Harry mused thoughtfully. “There’s no rule against that as far as I know…”

“I think he’d start avoiding meals altogether if you did that – not that I’m complaining,” Ron said. “You notice how he doesn’t insult us anymore?”

“He’s too scared of Harry,” Hermione said, grinning wickedly. She was mercilessly enjoying the bigot’s discomfort with this “amnesiac” Harry.

“After all, he’s my  _new buddy_ ,” Harry mocked, winking at Ron. All lightheartedness aside, though, he really was trying to make friends with Draco. At the moment, he hadn’t had time to befriend him –  _cough_ stalk _cough_  – him the way he would’ve liked, but he was planning on beginning tomorrow.

In the meantime, everyone had settled down and was looking expectantly at Dumbledore, who had remained standing. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and – more particularly – guests,” he started, beaming at the foreign students. “I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable.”

There was a derisive laugh from one of the Beauxbatons girls that Harry recognized with a pang as Fleur.

Hermione shot that girl a glare. “No one’s making you stay!”

Dumbledore continued, “The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!”

The elderly wizard took a seat and was promptly engaged in conversation with Igor Karkaroff, who was still a Death Eater to Harry’s keen senses.

There was no need to worry about him, since Karkaroff was doubtlessly a coward regardless of the timeline. He would be badgering Severus in no time.

“What’s  _that_?” Ron asked, pointing at a large dish that was filled some sort of shellfish stew.

“Bouillabaisse,” Hermione said.

“Bless you,” Ron said.

“It’s  _French_ ,” Hermione said, sounding affronted. “I had it on holiday summer before last. It’s very nice.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Ron said, helping himself to black pudding.

Harry winked at Hermione and took a helping of the bouillabaisse before endeavoring to try some of the other delicacies around them. He enjoyed most of them but steered clear of the escargot; he’d had enough of eating strange animals like snails from the future.

“Ezcuse me,” said a voice with a heavy accent. “’Ave you finished ze bouillabaisse?”

Ron gaped at the breathtakingly beautiful visage of Fleur Delacour. “Wha—?”

“Yeah, we’ve finished,” Harry said before his friend could thoroughly embarrass himself more than he already had. He picked the bowl up and handed it to her with a smile. “It was really good. You don’t have it at your table?”

Fleur gave Harry an appraising eye. “No, ve do not. Thank you.” She took the bowl from Harry and went back to her friends, who were giggling at Harry.

Harry felt himself flush and turned back to the table, seeing that Ron was staring at him, openmouthed. “What?”

“She’s not a normal girl!” Ron whispered, glancing back at Fleur, who was now chatting with her friends. “They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts!”

“They make them just fine at Hogwarts,” Harry argued, thinking about a certain red-haired beauty. He chanced a glance down the table to where Ginny was sitting and forced himself to keep his mind blank as he found her. He hadn’t allowed himself to think once of her aside from passing glimpses because the memories were too painful.

He’d have to deal with it eventually but not now.

“Look who else is here,” Hermione whispered, dragging Harry from his thoughts. “It’s Mr. Crouch and Ludo Bagman.”

Harry glanced up at the staff table and saw that the two organizers of the tournament had indeed taken their seats.

“What are they doing here?” Ron asked.

“They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn’t they?” Hermione asked rhetorically. “I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start.”

“I think they’re also judging,” Harry said. “We’ll probably hear it from Dumbledore soon anyway.”

Eventually, as the golden plates were cleaned by the hungry students, Dumbledore stood up again. Everyone promptly hushed and gazed expectantly at him.

Even Harry, who had already gone through this event once before, felt a thrill of excitement. He looked over at Crouch and saw that he seemed to be stiff with anticipation. A glance at Severus showed him trying to look bored. Only the fact that he was tapping his finger on the table showed his unease at being in the midst of Karkaroff, Crouch Sr., and the visage of Moody. Even knowing that Moody wasn’t really Moody didn’t seem to do much to alleviate his ingrained unease of the ex-Auror.

“The moment has come,” Dumbledore announced, smiling. “The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation”—there was some polite applause—“and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”

There was more applause for Ludo, as he was known as a Beater and was generally more likable than the stern-faced Crouch.

Hermione sniffed once as she looked at the staff table. “He can’t even acknowledge his introduction!” She’d meant Crouch Sr. of course.

Harry shrugged. “Just who he is.”

“Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament,” Dumbledore went on, “and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions’ efforts.”

“Blimey, Harry, how’d you know?” Ron whispered as the entire hall seemed to stiffen in anticipation.

“Something I read in the library,” Harry whispered back, not catching the strange look Hermione was sending his way.

Dumbledore was smiling as he said, “The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch.”

Having been unnoticed by everyone except for Harry, Filch approached Dumbledore while carrying a large wooden chest that was covered with jewels.

“The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman,” Dumbledore explained as Filch placed the chest on the table before him, “and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess – their daring – their powers of deduction – and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.

“As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire.”

Dumbledore took out his wand, Harry noticing that he was gripping it unusually tightly. Dropping his rigid Occlumency shields slightly, Harry was once again assaulted by the unusual singing noise he’d heard during the Opening Feast. Swallowing, he put his shields up before he pulled his wand out in self-defense as Ron was sitting  _way_  too close to him for personal comfort.

The Elder Wand tapped against the casket three times and the lid creaked open. Dumbledore pulled out a large, roughly hewn wooden cup that was full to the brim with dancing blue-white flames. Closing the cask, the Headmaster placed the goblet on top of it.

“Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet,” Dumbledore explained into the hush of the Great Hall. “Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

“To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

“Finally, I wish to impress upon any one of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all.”

“An Age Line!” Fred said, his eyes glinting as they made their way across the hall to the doors into the entrance hall. “Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn’t it? And once your name’s in that goblet, you’re laughing – it can’t tell whether you’re seventeen or not!”

“But I don’t think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance,” Hermione said, “we just haven’t learned enough…”

“Speak for yourself,” George said shortly. “You’ll try and get in, won’t you, Harry?”

Harry raised an eyebrow at George. “I’m  _fourteen_ ,” he said slowly. “ _Why_  would I want to enter myself in a tournament that Dumbledore specifically said is for wizards who are  _seventeen_  and up?”

“You’re  _Harry_ ,” George said as if that answered the question.

“Yeah and you’re Forge,” Harry said, earning himself a mock glare from the Weasley twin. “Just because I went after the stone in first year, fought a basilisk in second year, and did who-knows-what in third year doesn’t mean I’m entering myself in this usually  _deadly_  tournament. I like my head where it is, thank you very much.”

“Harry has the right of it, you know,” Hermione said. “It’s dangerous!”

Ron wasn’t paying any attention to the conversation at all, instead looking for Krum. “Where is he?” he asked anxiously. “Dumbledore didn’t say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?”

His question was answered as they drew level with the Slytherin table and Karkaroff was gathering his students.

“Back to the ship, then,” he was saying. “Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?”

As the Death Eater-turned-professor took care of his students, Harry drew back slightly. Occlumency shields or not, he didn’t think he could hold his ingrained reflex to attack any and all Death Eaters if he got too close.

When Karkaroff left the Great Hall without any further ado, he heaved a sigh of relief and followed his friends up into the Gryffindor dormitories.

Although Ron wanted to hang around in the common room and talk, Harry dragged him upstairs and inconspicuously put up a silencing ward.

“What do you want?” Ron asked, shaking his arm free from Harry’s grip.

“You know I hate my fame, right?” Harry said immediately. “You know that I’d do anything to be rid of it?”

Ron frowned at Harry. “Well…yeah… What of it?”

“If something happened, Ron…something that suddenly put me in the spotlight like second year, would you still stick with me?”

“Harry, you’re my  _best mate_ —”

Harry was blunt. “I know you’re jealous sometimes of what you think is terrific popularity.”

Ron made a face but didn’t say anything, sensing that now wasn’t the time to make objections.

“I have this feeling…something’s going to happen. I’m no Seer and you  _know_  I think Divination’s absolute rubbish but this is a gut feeling telling me that  _something’s_  going to put me in mortal danger. Since the only thing around that even remotely resembles danger at the moment is the goblet and the tournament, I think something’s going to happen tomorrow night. I need to know, Ron, if you’ll stick with me…even if my name ends up being pulled from the goblet.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you’re going to put your name in?”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?  _I hate the fame_. Why would I enter in something that would get me even  _more_  of the blasted thing? It’s just this feeling I have.”

Ron studied Harry for a long moment. “I can’t promise you that I’ll be happy about my best mate being entered in a deadly tournament,” he finally said, “but I’ll stick by you, Harry.”

Harry broke into a relieved grin. “That’s great, Ron. Thanks…”

Ron smiled at him, too. “Brilliant. If you’re done then, want to go down? I’d like to hear more about what Fred and George are planning on doing. Think they’ll manage it?”

* * *

“I talked with Ron after we got back to the dorms,” Harry informed Severus, leaning back in his armchair. “I think he’ll stick around this time.”

Severus watched the flames in the grate flicker. “He would have befriended you again regardless after the first task.”

“I know but…at the moment it doesn’t seem quite _real_ , you know?” Harry murmured. “It’s almost like a dream… I can hardly believe everyone’s still alive. I can hardly believe Hogwarts is still standing and that Tom isn’t raging around like a madman from the Ministry. I see what’s happening and I’m reacting but…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, resting it over his scar.

“You have been Occluding?”

“Of course. It’s the only way I can even attend classes without flicking out my wand every five seconds.”

“The way you have been using it is not what is designed for,” Severus said slowly, meeting Harry’s eyes. “You are using it to dampen your natural reflexes…dulling the pace of your mind, so to speak. As such, it is no surprise that this seems like a dream to you.”

Harry smiled bitterly. “Yeah, well…that’ll stop pretty quickly once the tournament’s up and running.” He looked down at the Marauder’s Map in his lap, noting that the small dot labeled Barty Crouch had finished its business in the entrance hall. “Crouch’s done with the first step.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Yes, well…he’s a sneak. You have the Polyjuice supplies in your stock, right?”

“Despite my better judgment, I have made sure that he will not lack for ingredients,” Severus confirmed, sighing.

“Do you know when we can go for that locket?” Harry asked. “We have until June before the final task, but I’d rather take care of it now. I don’t feel comfortable leaving the Horcrux lying there.”

“Do you suspect that the Dark Lord of your time came back with you?” Severus asked, critically gazing at Harry.

“At the moment, my connection only shows me the Tom of this time. But there’s something else…” Harry shook his head. “I only have my suspicions. If the Tom I threw through the veil came back with me, he’ll be a spirit at the moment. I’d normally say that he can’t do anything, but since this is  _Tom_  we’re talking about, I’m not going to.”

“Very well.” Severus looked up at the clock above the mantelpiece, seeing that it read two in the morning. “It is late. I will let you know when Karkaroff has made his move. About the locket, it would be best if we deal with it in the coming weekend. The week is too busy.”

“All right.” Harry inclined his head and stood up, flipping his Invisibility Cloak’s hood over his head and twisting the magic so he turned invisible. “Good night, Severus.”

It was only as the door was closing behind him that he heard Severus murmur “Good night” as well. Grinning widely, Harry set off to his dorm.

* * *

**September 20, 2000**

“See if you can splinch anyone else!” Harry flung Ron a furious look. “Really, does he think I  _knew_  what I was doing when I did it?”

“Probably not, mate, but he’s hoping to recreate it,” Ron said, trying to pacify his friend. “I mean, causing  _You-Know-Who_  to  _splinch_  is pretty damn awesome.”

“And the worst of it is that I think I was just trying to keep Severus from splinching,” Harry continued. “I can’t even remember what exactly I did. It’s such a blur—”

“Harry,” Ron cut him off. “ _Look_.”

Hearing the urgency in Ron’s tone, Harry looked to see a lone figure beyond the gates of Hogwarts. In an effort to make out whom exactly it was, Harry focused on it, only to find that he was sensing something Dark and twisted that seemed oddly familiar.

With a gasp, he snapped out of the focus and realized that he knew exactly who it was. “No way,” he breathed in astonishment. “It’s  _Malfoy_.”

“What, are you serious?” Ron grasped Harry by the arm. “How can you tell? I can’t even make out who it is, and I have loads better eyesight than you!”

“I don’t quite know… I  _sensed_  it, I think,” Harry tried to explain, frowning. “It’s funny… He feels a bit like Severus but not quite. There’s one bit in his…aura that resembles something in Severus’s and –  _blimey_ , how come I never noticed it before? It’s the Dark Mark!”

“You’re sensing the Dark Mark?”

Harry squinted at Ron. “You’re all light and fuzzy…”

Ron seemed bemused and slightly alarmed now. “You all right there, Harry? I think I just heard you say I’m light and fuzzy.”

“You don’t  _look_  it; you  _feel_  like you’re Light.” Harry glanced back at Hogwarts. “It must be the castle. I haven’t been out in a while and Hogwarts has so much magic it’s blocking me.”

“I think you’d better see Poppy, Harry,” Ron said, sounding like he was forcefully keeping his tone calm. “Snape did something wrong, I just know he did,” he muttered, grabbing Harry’s arm and steering him back up the stairs. “Minerva should go see who that is.” He threw a glance back at the figure by the gates and pushed Harry through the doors.

Once inside, Harry was accosted by Severus and Filius.

“There you are, Harry!” the diminutive Charms professor said in his high-pitched voice. “Severus and I were just looking for you. We think we might have—”

“You’re light and fluffy,” Harry cut him off, staring at him. “Almost like…air…”

Filius looked startled. “I beg your pardon?”

“And  _you’re_  rather Dark but still Light,” Harry told Severus, who had raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got that same tinge Malfoy does…that Dark Mark…”

“Are you quite all right, Harry?” Severus asked, sharing a look with Ron, who was mouthing “ _I think he’s gone barmy!_ ” at him. “Have we been pushing you too much?”

Harry was studying a stone on the floor, seemingly fascinated by it. “Oh…so  _that’s_  what the stone actually looks like?”

The other three wizards looked down to see what Harry was marveling at, only to find a rather unremarkable stone.

“Perhaps bed rest?” Filius suggested hesitantly.

Harry was still staring intensely at the stone but was kneeling down and had his hand hovering over it. He gave his fingers a couple of flicks and the other wizards gaped as they saw the stone suddenly  _twist_  and writing appear on it.

“My goodness gracious!” Filius squeaked, his eyes popping.

They couldn’t ask Harry what he’d done as Minerva hurried into the entrance hall, looking rather stressed. “Someone’s at the gates!” she said. “Severus, come with me, will you? You’ve apparently nothing better to do but stand around.”

Slightly recovered, Severus shot Harry an appraising look and swept off behind the Headmistress.

“It’s Saturday, isn’t it?” Harry asked a stymied Ron, standing up. “What else would he do if he’s not teaching Defense?”

Ron gave a startled cough and lifted his gaze from the changed stone. “Err…I don’t think she quite meant it like that. You all right, Harry?” he asked tentatively. “You seem…kind of dopey…”

“Do I?” Harry was looking at the doors, not understanding why he was back in Hogwarts. He could sense the magic humming in the school and vibrating through him. There were two Dark signatures right outside of the doors but one of them was one he was intimately familiar with and the other was rather faint, as if the owner was trying to pull away from the Dark.

He opened the doors before Ron or Filius could stop him and found himself staring directly into Malfoy’s face. Draco Malfoy looked absolutely terrible, which was saying a lot as he was normally impeccably groomed.

Minerva recovered from her shock to purse her lips disapprovingly. “Harry, if you would step aside.”

“Blimey, Harry was right?” Ron couldn’t believe his eyes. “What are  _you_  doing here, Malfoy?”

Malfoy sneered but it was a halfhearted effort at best.

Minerva gazed disapprovingly at Ron over her spectacles. “That is what we expect to find out, Ronald. Come with me, Mr. Malfoy.”

As Minerva swept off with Malfoy and Severus in tow, Ron whispered to Harry, “You know, it was worse when she was still calling me Mr. Weasley. Ronald makes it seem so much more informal.”

“But it’s worse at the same time,” Harry murmured, blinking rapidly as he focused on the signatures of the Dark Mark. It was a heady feeling, as if he wasn’t quite in his body, but it was fading rapidly. He was feeling almost normal now. “I’m going to follow.”

Before Ron could object, Harry had retraced the steps the other three had taken moments before. The red-haired wizard shook his head and ran after his friend, leaving Filius behind and still gaping at the stone on the ground, which now bore intricate marking reading

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Founded by Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff_

In the meantime, Harry and Ron had caught up with Minerva and Severus, who was keeping a hand on Malfoy’s arm. Malfoy’s wand was currently residing in Severus’s robe pocket.

“Did I say that you two could follow us?” Minerva said sternly.

“No but you didn’t say that we  _couldn’t_ ,” Harry said, glancing at Malfoy. “Besides, I have a vested interest in him. Narcissa Malfoy saved my life.”

“Much good that did, Potter,” Malfoy grumbled quietly, though his tone didn’t hold the usual malice.

Harry waited until they were in the Headmistress’s office to ask, “What did you mean by that comment back there? What happened?”

Malfoy slumped in the chair he was seated in, his face inexplicably weary. “Damn it, Potter, do you have  _any_  idea what it’s been like since the Dark Lord rose again? My father and mother  _betrayed_  him; he doesn’t forget such an action.” His pale eyes flickered over to Severus and back to Harry. “He was ridiculously gleeful after he destroyed the Burrow”—Ron flinched at the memory—“and came to our home next. And do you know what he did then?”

“No,” Harry said, although he had a sick feeling settling in his stomach.

“Right, of course you don’t. He took my parents and turned them into servants. He almost did me as well but since I was apparently still loyal to him I was of some use.” Malfoy’s face was ashen. “Then something happened this year on the first of September. He came back, absolutely furious and missing an arm. He decided he didn’t have any use for my family anymore and killed my mother and father right in front of me. I barely managed to get out by Disapparating. He’d forgotten that the wards allow Malfoys to Apparate on the grounds.”

“A very interesting story, Malfoy,” Severus said scornfully, “but that fails to answer the question of why you came to Hogwarts.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Malfoy asked. “I don’t want in with…with  _him_. I thought I did, though…at first. I didn’t have much of a choice.” His right hand convulsively gripped his left forearm.

“So you want sanctuary,” Harry guessed. “Here at Hogwarts?”

Malfoy looked relieved. “Yes.”

“Tell us why.”

“What?”

“Tell us why we should give it to you,” Harry said sharply. “Your mother’s the one who helped me and that was only because of her loyalty to you and your father. What makes you think we’ll help you? Why should we even believe that you’ve deserted the bastard?”

Malfoy swallowed. “I hate him,” he whispered, balling his hands into fists. “He killed my parents and laughed about it. He would’ve killed me, too, if I hadn’t gotten away. Why would I follow someone like that?

“As for your other question…I’m willing to fight if I have to.”

“You?” Ron barked a bitter laugh. “You’re a bloody coward.”

Malfoy’s pale eyes glittered furiously. “I’m no coward, Weasley. I’m a Slytherin. We know better than to charge in ahead without knowing what we’re getting into. Although,” he admitted quietly, “I did just that when I became one of his.”

“Look at me,” Severus ordered.

Malfoy did, his eyes locking with Severus’s black ones. In a moment, he looked away, blinking.

Severus caught Harry’s emerald gaze and nodded sharply. It would seem that Malfoy was sincere.

Harry shared a glance with Minerva, who nodded after a short moment, before he turned to Malfoy and took a deep breath. “All right then, Malfoy. You’re in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, plotty developments! 8)  
> Feedback is love. <3


	8. The Four Champions

**December 14, 2000**

Harry blew out a plume of smoke, his breath condensing in the bitterly cold air. He pushed his glasses up his nose, grimacing at the cold rims, and rubbed his hands together in their gloves. He threw a pitiful look over at Hermione, who simply looked cross.

“It’s our turn, Harry,” she muttered in a reprimanding tone. “It’s too dangerous for the students to go to Hogsmeade otherwise. You brought it on yourself, you know.”

“It wasn’t  _my_  fault that the potion exploded,” Harry grumbled. “I swear…Malfoy distracted me.”

“You didn’t add the leeches at the right moment,” Hermione said. “Of course it exploded.”

“I know, I know. Severus already gave me the lecture.”

Hermione sighed, taking pity on her friend. “You know, you have gotten better. This was a very advanced potion, and they do tend to explode.”

“Neville exploded cauldrons in first year,” Harry pointed out.

“Well…that was Neville,” Hermione edged.

“He has a talent,” Harry admitted, sighing ruefully. He stared longingly at the Three Broomsticks and then at the students that were milling in the shops around them.

“I don’t understand why  _he_  had to come along,” Hermione muttered as a blond Slytherin stepped out of Honeydukes to approach them. “Couldn’t he just have stayed in the castle?”

“I volunteered to watch him,” Harry said. “So when I’m assigned to Hogsmeade patrol, he comes with.”

“But that’s illogical! Wouldn’t it be safer for him inside the castle?”

“Wizards are rarely logical, Granger,” Malfoy said, having overheard the last bit. He pulled up the high collar of his jacket. “By the way,” he told Harry, “there are a group of third years in there fighting over Sugar Quills.”

Hermione reacted instead of Harry, growling menacingly, “Oh for God’s sake! It’s just  _Sugar Quills_!” Still muttering angrily under her breath, she stomped off towards the shop to break up the ensuing argument.

“Is it really necessary to do that?” Malfoy asked Harry, staring after her. “They never did when we were in school.”

“You didn’t hear what happened last time, then. Two third years were fighting over whom would get the last casket of Dungbombs and the next thing the supervisors knew was that the whole store had gone up in smoke. It’s fixed as you can see, but we keep a closer eye on these things now.”

“Who were the supervisors?”

“Ron and Neville.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “No wonder.”

Harry sighed aggrievedly and called over to some fifth years, “If you’re that cold, get into the pub and drink a Butterbeer. There’s no use arguing over whose turn it is to cast that Warming Charm.”

The fifth years  _eeped_  and scrambled, causing Harry to send a silent prayer up to the skies.

Malfoy snickered at his expression. “You have the ears of a bat, Potter.”

“Eavesdropping Charm,” Harry said. “I always keep one up in places like this.”

“I wonder if that’s what Snape had in his classes?” Malfoy murmured, frowning thoughtfully.

“You’d have to ask him,” Harry said cheerfully.

Malfoy shot him a glare. “Why don’t  _you_?”

“Ah no. I’m not your lapdog, Malfoy. Just because I vouched for you doesn’t mean squat.”

Malfoy shrugged. “I didn’t expect it to.”

Neither of them pointed out the obvious fact that Malfoy still wasn’t trusted. He was tolerated and treated respectfully and he did the same in kind, but no one had explicitly said that they trusted him. Severus had told Harry he didn’t intend on going back to Voldemort, but they didn’t know whether he had any ulterior motives, as he did know Occlumency and could be hiding those thoughts from Severus.

Hermione didn’t come back immediately, leaving Harry and Malfoy standing in the cold, watching their charges all eventually wander into the Three Broomsticks. The two stood there silently for another moment before mutually agreeing to head in there as well. They’d just taken a step towards warmth when there was a small explosion and the roof of the pub caught fire.

Harry and Malfoy whipped out their wands as the screaming students fled the building.

“ _Sonorus_ ,” Harry said. His voice was instantly magically amplified. “Everyone, get behind us!”

The students did as he ordered, although the seventh years remained congregated around the two.

Harry kept his eyes on the burning pub and so didn’t notice when a blank-eyed student threw a ball at him.

Malfoy did and shouted, “ _Potter_!”

Suddenly sensing some strange traveling magic heading towards him, Harry whirled, only to find the ball hitting him on the chest. He felt a pull behind his navel and felt someone slam into him from behind just as the definitely unauthorized Portkey snatched him away.

He slammed into the ground somewhere dark and smelly an instant later and hit the ground. When he noticed that the area was clear except for Malfoy’s signature, he got to his knees, muttering, “Bloody hell… I  _hate_  Portkeys…”

“Speak for yourself, Potter,” Malfoy groaned, rolling onto his stomach. It had been he who had slammed into Harry from behind. “I  _despise_  them.”

“I abhor them,” Harry retorted, raising his wand. He tried to light it only to find that his magic wouldn’t work. “Bugger. No magic?”

Malfoy got to his feet, trying his wand as well. “Looks like it,” he agreed grimly. “We’re stuck, then.”

Harry went slightly cross-eyed as he focused on the magic around them. It was a new ability that he’d been practicing since he’d splinched Voldemort earlier that year. Although Severus had at first thought it had been some sort of lucky fluke that had caused the Dark Lord to splinch and had tried to recreate it, they’d discovered when Malfoy came that he could sense and twist magic. So far, he’d only been able to sense magic when focusing extremely hard.

“I could untwist it,” he murmured, craning his head as he followed the streams of invisible magic.

“What are you blathering about, Potter?” Malfoy snapped. “We’re stuck in the cells of Malfoy Manor. No one’s ever been able to do any magic here before.”

Harry raised his wand and began performing a series of flicks, poking and prodding at the magic around them. He finally hit the right snag and pulled at it, unraveling the rest of the magic around them.

“Nothing  _works_ , Potter. I told you—”

“ _Lumos_.” Harry’s wand lit in a satisfyingly silver glow, cutting off Malfoy mid-word.

“Wha—?” Malfoy whipped out his own wand. “ _Lumos_.” When his wand lit as well, Malfoy’s eyes bugged out. “Bloody  _hell_! How’d you manage that?”

Harry shrugged, not trusting Malfoy enough to explain his odd talent. “You said we were at Malfoy Manor? Maybe your wards need refreshing.”

“Our wards do not need  _refreshing_ ,” Malfoy said snottily. “They simply  _are_.”

“‘They simply  _are,_ ’” Harry mocked, rolling his eyes. “Brilliant, Malfoy. That sounds ridiculously stupid. Got anything else movie worthy to say? Maybe that you never knew what a charmed life you led until you found yourself lying in the dark and damp dungeons for a crime unknown to you?”

“First of all, Potter, what in bloody hell is a movie? And second, Malfoys are not  _stupid._ ”

“No, of course not. Their brains are just demented.”

The Slytherin narrowed his eyes. “I don’t suppose you want to find a way out of here, do you?”

“’Course I do!” Harry hissed. He glanced askance at the door, feeling what lay beyond it. There was nothing in close proximity at the moment, although he knew somebody would be coming soon. “Besides, Malfoy, why the hell did you grab onto me anyway when the Portkey was thrown? You should’ve stayed back in Hogsmeade.”

Malfoy looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You  _don’t know_? That has to be the  _lamest_  answer anyone’s given to a question. One doesn’t just throw oneself onto someone who’s about to be taken by an unauthorized Portkey going who-knows-where. So let’s try again: Why’d you grab onto me?”

Scowling, Malfoy turned away. “You’re the only one who even talks to me like a decent person.”

“That’s not true. The others—”

“‘Hello, Mr. Malfoy. How are you this fine day? All right? Oh, very well, I have some exams to grade…’” Malfoy’s voice sounded bitter. “I don’t  _converse_  with anyone. You’re the only one who talks about regular things like the weather—”

“The  _weather_?”

“—about things that went on back in Hogsmeade last time—”

“You asked.”

“—and letting me watch while you brew potions! Snape barely tolerates me as it is and that’s because my father and he have bad blood—”

“What about him and  _my_  father?”

“—McGonagall eyes me like I’m a firecracker about to go off any second, Granger’s giving me the stink eye anytime I go anywhere  _near_  her, and Weasley keeps offering me snacks that’ll turn me into animals!”

Before Harry could address the litany of complaints Malfoy had brought to his doorstep, he sensed Dark Magic approaching the door. Alarmed, he looked at Malfoy.

“Somebody’s coming!” he hissed. “Someone with the Dark Mark.”

“ _Nox_ ,” Malfoy said hurriedly and was followed by Harry. “Get behind the door, Potter. They might think they only got one of us.”

“But—”

“Just do it!”

When Harry didn’t immediately move, Malfoy seized Harry by the jacket and threw him behind the iron door just as it swung open. He pointed his wand directly at the incoming person.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Malfoy’s wand was ripped from his hand and flew into the Death Eater’s hand. “Well, well… What do we have here?” The voice was smugly satisfied. “Little Draco Malfoy…all alone?”

“What do you think?” Malfoy spat, his face furious.

Harry peeked through the bars to see Augustus Rookwood’s face. Wasn’t he supposed to be in Azkaban?

“The Portkey was thrown at Potter,” Rookwood said, pointing his wand at Malfoy’s chest. He remained outside the door, which was where the wards supposedly ended before Harry had unraveled them. “So that begs the question…where is he?”

“Not in here obviously,” Malfoy said, sticking his nose in the air. “Why don’t you go run along and tell your master that his brilliant plan to capture the Boy Who Lived epically failed?”

Rookwood’s face twisted into blind fury. “You—” He raised his wand. “ _Crucio_!”

The Unforgivable hit Malfoy, causing him to keel over as he burst into screams of agony.

Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He pointed his wand directly through the bars. “ _Stupefy_!”

The red Stunning Spell hit Rookwood directly in the face and threw him into the doorframe. Harry slipped around the door and seized Malfoy’s and Rookwood’s wands, pocketing the Death Eater’s. He dragged the man inside the room and checked on Malfoy, who was shivering in remembered pain.

“T-t-thanks, P-Potter,” Malfoy stuttered, accepting Harry’s help.

“Let’s go,” Harry said, pulling him out. He closed the door behind him and focused on the wards he’d dropped earlier. The remnants of the magic were still there and he just had to twist them back into place. The fact that it was getting easier and easier every time he accessed this power probably should have worried him more.

Harry drew Malfoy into an alcove at the bottom of the stairs leading to the cells. “Do you know how to get out of here?” He extended his strange sense to the upstairs floors and found that there were quite a few Death Eaters there. “This place probably has a ton of wards against escaping since Voldemort’s taken over.” His scar tingled numbly as he said the name, just like it had since the madman returned.

Malfoy scoffed, his eyes shining. “He’ll have forgotten one thing. He can’t change them because he’s not a Malfoy. Only Malfoys can change them, and he’s either killed them all or driven them off. I’m the only one who can change the wards now.”

“Brilliant. Disapparate already then!”

As Harry said that, though, Malfoy looked sheepish. “One thing, Potter… I never actually learned  _how_.”

Harry stared at him in disbelief. “But…but you’re the  _heir_! How’s that possible?”

“My father never thought he wouldn’t live long enough not to teach me,” Malfoy said defensively. “Besides, he and my mother were on house arrest. It’s not like I  _needed_  to know before.”

“So this place has anti- _everything_  on it?”

“Not for Malfoys…but the Dark Lord’s placed his own wards on the place.”

Harry thought back to what he’d been reading in his Auror textbooks. “But…but doesn’t that mean you should be able to take those off? They conflict with your manor’s natural wards…”

“Potter, if anyone’s trained to take wards down, it’s  _you_. You’re the one trained to be an Auror, remember?”

“I didn’t train to take  _wards_  down, Malfoy. It’s the Dark Wizard catching profession, not the ward breaking profession.”

Before the two could argue the point more, they heard shouting from upstairs and a loud stomping noise. They shared two “Oh,  _bugger_ ” looks before pelting down the corridor.

“If I’m right,” Malfoy panted, “then this corridor leads to a tunnel that goes  _out_  of Malfoy Manor. The plans are old and I don’t think the Dark Lord’s looked at them. The only reason I know is because I snuck into the library!”

“You? Sneak?” Harry snorted derisively and then decided his breath was better spent on running.

“Shut up, Potter.”

Malfoy pulled Harry to a stop beyond a certain door and used his wand to tap a stone. The wall drew aside to reveal a hole and he pushed Harry into it, sealing the entrance behind him after stepping inside.

“Further down and we should be able to Disapparate,” Malfoy said.

“Just you or can I?” Harry asked.

“Both of us. Why?”

“I could get us somewhere safe,” Harry said, thinking of the Headmistress’s office, which was where his friends probably were at the moment in a right state of panic.

“This isn’t safe?”

When the wall behind them began to slide open, Harry shot Malfoy a sarcastic look. “No, it isn’t! I thought they didn’t know!”

“Apparently I was wrong!” Malfoy began running again.

A shout ran from behind them. “There they are!”

Harry swore and ducked under a tree root from ancient times. Malfoy ran past him, using his wand to light the way. Unfortunately, the shadows it cast caused Harry to miss seeing a protruding stone in the ground and he tripped over it, sprawling on the ground.

He half expected Malfoy to continue running and leave him to his fate but was surprised when he was hastily heaved up and shoved forward.

“Go!” Malfoy hissed. He cast a shield to block the first curses sent their way. The Death Eaters were too close to avoid now.

“Why—”

“Do you really think I’m that important?” Malfoy’s shield was wavering. “You’re the one fated to destroy the Dark Lord. If something happens to you, what do you think will happen to everyone else? Bloody hell,  _go, Harry_!”

“Not without you, Draco,” Harry said firmly, grabbing the blonde’s arm. “ _Protego_!” His powerful shield spread across the entire tunnel and he threw Draco behind him. “ _Reducto_!” The curse hit the roof of the tunnel and Harry began running, grabbing Draco’s arm as he did.

“Are you  _mad_? We’ll be trapped, too!” Draco gasped, gazing fearfully upwards at the caving-in ceiling. “In five—”

Harry felt the Apparition wards end and turned on the spot, Disapparating directly into the Headmistress’s office with a loud  _pop_!

Clutching one another, Harry and Draco gasped for breath, dirt streaking their faces and dust pillowed on their hair. They’d evidently interrupted a loud argument by the red faces. Minerva was sitting behind the desk, face pale and drawn. Hermione’s face was ashen and she had a wand clutched in her hand. Ron had apparently been gesturing furiously as his arms dropped to the side. Severus had been pacing, as he put down his foot almost absentmindedly.

Taking a single deep breath before pandemonium broke out, Harry turned to Draco and stuck his hand out. “Hi. I’m Harry Potter.”

For a full five seconds, Draco stared at his hand before finally breaking into a tentative smile and taking it. “Draco Malfoy.”

* * *

**October 31, 1994**

The next day found Harry inspecting the Marauder’s Map and looking for a specific person who was ensconced in the library. Ron and Hermione were still in the dorms and Harry knew he had about half an hour before he was expected down in the Great Hall with them.

Once in the library, Harry tucked the map away and made his way to his objective: Draco Malfoy. He put up  _Muffliato_  and a Notice-Me-Not Charm to ensure that their conversation would remain private. Then he sat down directly across from the Malfoy and leaned down on the table, resting his head on his arms and looking up at Draco from woebegone eyes.

Draco started upon Harry’s arrival, slamming his book closed. “ _You_!” His voice was loud and he instantly looked around, sighing in relief when Irma Pince didn’t come swooping down on his head. He lowered his voice and hissed, “What are you doing here, Potter?”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Harry complained. “I thought we were friends?”

Draco glared furiously at the Boy Who Lived. “We,” he sneered, “are not friends, Potter. Nor will we ever be.”

The irony burned. Harry blinked innocently at him. “We shook hands!”

“That means absolutely nothing,” Draco informed him. “You forced me into it.” His eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a Slytherin.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and tried his best to make his face the picture of innocence. “Me? A Slytherin?” He looked down at the crest on his robes. “I’m still a Gryffindor last time I checked.”

Draco leaned forward to hiss in Harry’s face, “I’m not buying it, Potter. Your little amnesiac act isn’t cutting it for me. If you really did have amnesia, you wouldn’t remember a  _thing_  about magic. It isn’t that selective that you’d completely forget about me and no one else.”

“You know what amnesia is?”

Draco raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I’m pure-blood, Potter, not stupid. Now, what are you playing at?”

Harry picked himself up from the table and leaned back in his chair, recognizing the game was up. Perhaps he could twist this for his own benefit. “Well…I never figured  _you_  for someone who’d know something as common as a  _Muggle_  affliction.”

Draco looked annoyed. “I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “But I looked through all the wizard afflictions before thinking that since you live with your Muggle relatives that it might be something Muggle.” He placed the book he’d been reading on the table, which Harry recognized as a Muggle one on medical problems.

“You just found this out about five minutes ago, didn’t you?” Harry asked, amused.

“I didn’t get the book until yesterday,” Draco said defensively.

“Mm-hmm.” Harry pursed his lips in an effort not to smile.

Draco tried to salvage the situation. “You haven’t answered my question:  _What are you playing at_?”

“I’m tired of fighting,” Harry said bluntly. “It’s stupid, childish, and serves absolutely no purpose other than losing points and landing us in detention.”

“What? You’re saying you  _grew up_?”

“In a matter of speaking, I suppose that you could say yes I did.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I’m not buying it. Who put you up to this? Wanted to see how long you could string along Draco Malfoy without him catching on?”

Harry burst into laughter. “You think I’m doing this to make fun of  _you_? Draco, you’re not even  _worth_  the effort.”

“Don’t call me that,” Draco snapped.

“I’ll call you what I like,” Harry said sharply. “We’re not enemies, Draco.”

“We’re certainly not friends either,  _Potter_.”

“Whatever suits you then,” Harry said dismissively. “Now, Draco, you wanted to know why you?”

Draco folded his arms across his chest and glared defiantly at the black-haired wizard.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Harry said. “I know your father’s a Death Eater – don’t give me that look, Draco – I’ve  _seen_  him. He was in the Dark Lord’s Inner Circle. Your mother might not have been one, but she’s in no way innocent. I know that you’ve been primed all your life to take up that role…the perfect little pure-blood heir…the perfect follower of the Dark Lord…”

“You’re calling him the Dark Lord,” Draco observed, not denying Harry’s allegations.

“Got your attention, didn’t it?” Harry grinned and snatched the book up that Draco had been reading, idly flipping through the pages. “Now…do you know what you’re getting into when you’re thinking of becoming a Death Eater?”

Draco snatched the book back and dumped it into his book bag. “What do  _you_  care, Potter?”

“Care to elaborate, Draco?”

“You know what I mean. You’re a Gryffindor, I’m a Slytherin. You’re Dumbledore’s Golden Boy and I’m the prince of Slytherin. Neither of us have anything to do with the other except when it comes to fighting.”

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” Harry said quietly, remembering the scared adult who had come to Hogwarts seeking refuge. “Regardless of whether that person is a Malfoy, a pure-blood, a Death Eater in training, or a spoiled bigot.”

Draco scowled at that as all those terms described him to a tee. “Would that extend to my parents as well? Or are you just preaching out of your ears?”

“Arse, Draco. Ears just don’t carry the same weight.” When he received a glare in return, Harry continued, “Yes, Draco, even your parents. That is, if they’re ever intending on deserting Voldemort.” Draco winced and Harry rolled his eyes. “As it stands, I don’t know where their loyalties lie but you—”

“You have no clue where my loyalties lie, Potter,” Draco said in a low voice. “I could go straight to my father to this and tell him the Light’s Golden Boy is trying to recruit Slytherins to his cause. Where would you be then?”

“Well, first of all, Draco, the threat of going to your father is absolutely pathetic and in no way becoming of a fourteen-year-old wizard. Second of all, why would you tell him? Why would he even  _believe_  you? Oh, he might suspect something but there’s no reason to think that those suspicions would stick. After all, I  _am_  a brash Gryffindor and utterly incapable of thinking.”

Draco was looking sick. “Right…”

“So with that matter settled,” Harry continued, “I’ll go on to say that I know you haven’t yet chosen. Your parents have trained you in case their master rises again and even if he doesn’t you’ll be the perfect little pure-blood wizard who hates Muggles, Muggle-borns, Squibs, and anything else that doesn’t fit into your perfect little world. But the problem, Draco, is that you  _don’t_  know what you’re getting into.”

“Are you telling me that he’s going to come back?” Draco asked slowly.

“I’ve faced him once in my first year and while he wasn’t alive in the strictest sense of the word, he certainly wasn’t dead. I’d say it’s a very safe bet that he won’t remain ‘dead’ for long.” Harry tapped his fingers on the table. “There’s something brewing, Draco; something big.”

“What – are you a Seer now?”

“I don’t hold any stock in most of that rubbish,” Harry said, waving his hand towards the ceiling. “But it’s a gut feeling and I’ve learned not to ignore those. Something’s going to happen, and it’s going to happen soon.”

“The tournament’s going on,” Draco pointed out dryly.

“Aside from that.” Harry fished around in his robes and pulled out a vial filled with a silver liquid. He placed it on the table and pushed it towards Draco. “I know you still need help deciding.”

“Memories, Potter?” Draco didn’t touch it. “Why should this help?”

“They’re not  _my_  memories, per se,” Harry said slowly. “They’re Voldemort’s.”

Draco stared at the thing as if it would attack him. “What the hell are you doing with  _his_  memories?”

“They were in my head, of course.” Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco’s gobsmacked expression. “You didn’t seriously think I just came away with a scar on that night, did you?”

That part was an outright lie but Harry figured it wouldn’t hurt. They  _were_  his memories, but they were memories he’d acquired from staring through Voldemort’s eyes. Thus, they were technically Voldemort’s memories.

“It won’t hurt you,” Harry said amusedly. “It’s just a vial of memories.”

“And where do you think I’d be able to view them in the first place?” Draco asked.

“You’re a Malfoy, Draco. I’m sure you’ve got a Pensieve stashed away someplace. And if that weren’t true, you could put it in your head, though I wouldn’t recommend that because of the content…”

Draco’s eyes flickered from the vial to Harry and to the vial again. Then he took a breath and grabbed it, slowly shaking it back and forth. “And when I’m done?”

Harry hid a smile. His plan had worked. Slytherin as he was, Draco couldn’t turn down an opportunity to gather information on something that could potentially ruin his future.

“When you’re done, you know where to find me.”

* * *

By the time Harry made his way to the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione were already there. Hermione handed him a plate of toast and some eggs, which he gratefully accepted.

“All the Durmstrang lot has put their names in already,” Ron informed him. “But no one from Hogwarts has yet.”

“Maybe they put it in last night after they went to bed,” Harry suggested after a mouthful of bread.

“Where were you earlier?” Hermione asked. “We looked but couldn’t find you.”

“The library. I thought you might like to read this,” Harry said, handing Hermione a thick tome. “It’s got a lot of information on house-elves.”

“Oh, thanks.” Hermione seemed startled. “I really didn’t expect this, Harry.”

“Yeah, why’d you do it, Harry?” Ron groaned, looking at the huge book.

“So we don’t find ourselves in over our heads because our best friend decides to campaign for house-elf rights,” Harry said, shrugging. He’d just swallowed a mouthful of eggs when Colin Creevey came up to him.

“You going to put your name in as well, Harry?” the small third-year asked eagerly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, sure that this hadn’t happened last time. “Why should I? I’m fourteen.”

Colin looked confused. “Yeah but you’re  _Harry Potter_.”

Harry heard Ron scoff but ignored it. “So? I’m not exactly eager to go risking my neck out there. Besides, why would I put my name in something that would land me right in the papers? If anything, you should probably ask those two,” Harry said, nodding towards the Weasley twins that had just entered.

“Done it,” Fred whispered triumphantly to the trio. He didn’t see Colin’s disappointed look.

“What?” Ron asked.

“The Aging Potion, dung brains,” Fred said.

“One drop each,” George said, rubbing his hands together with glee. “We only need to be a few months older.”

“We’re going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins,” Lee Jordan said, also grinning.

“I’m not sure this is going to work, you know,” Hermione warned. “I’m sure Dumbledore will have thought of this.”

“He did, I’m sure,” Harry whispered to her as the three troublemakers ignored her.

“Ready?” Fred asked the other two, quivering with anticipation. “C’mon then – I’ll go first—”

Though he remembered what happened last time, Harry couldn’t help but watch again with barely hidden amusement as Fred pulled a slip of parchment out and stepped across the Age Line. When nothing happened immediately, George also followed with a shout of glee.

Then there was a large explosion of smoke and the two Weasleys were thrown back, each sporting identical long beards. They looked at one another, exclaimed loudly, and tried to see if they would come off.

“I did warn you, you know,” Dumbledore said in an amused voice. The Headmaster had just entered the entrance hall.

“I knew it wouldn’t work,” Hermione whispered, already browsing the book Harry had given her. “It’s  _Dumbledore_  we’re talking about here.”

“Would’ve been cool if it did work,” Ron said moodily. “Hey, Harry…I know you didn’t want to enter but if it had been me…”

“I would’ve supported you all the way, Ron,” Harry said instantly, seeing what Ron was getting at.

“Not that it would have worked anyway,” Hermione said testily. “You’re  _fourteen_ , Ron. Wizards older than you have died in this wretched thing.”

“ _Wretched?_ ” Ron mouthed to Harry.

Harry simply shrugged and took another bite of his now cold eggs. He grimaced and started on his toast, only to find that it had turned soggy in the interim. Rolling his eyes in disgust, Harry dumped the plate and stalked off towards the dungeons with a quick goodbye to his friends. He had a friend to see about a nutrition potion.

* * *

Later that evening in the Great Hall, they were waiting eagerly for what would occur that night. Fred and George were clean shaven again and didn’t seem as disappointed as Ron had expected.

“Hope it’s Angelina,” Fred told them.

“So do I!” Hermione agreed. “Well, we’ll find out soon!”

The Halloween feast didn’t last long enough for Harry’s taste, although it was too long for everyone else.

Why was it that he was getting nerves  _now_  of all times? He knew that this needed to happen in order for everything else to fall in place.

He’d survived last time when he really  _was_  fourteen. He would be fine this time.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Hermione whispered. “You look kind of ill.”

Harry smiled weakly. “Fine, Hermione.” He locked eyes with Ron, who seemed to understand Harry’s ill feeling.

When the feast was cleared away, Dumbledore stood up, catching everyone’s attention. “Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions’ names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber”—he indicated the door behind the staff table—“where they will be receiving their first instructions.”

He took his wand out – which Harry couldn’t hear anymore since he’d clamped his Occlumency shields down so forcefully even touching things felt weird – and waved it once sweepingly, extinguishing all the lights except those inside the carved pumpkins. The Goblet of Fire continued glow brightly with iridescent blue flames that hurt anyone’s eyes that looked at it for too long.

“Any second,” Lee whispered, two seats away from Harry.

The flames of the goblet turned red suddenly and spark began to fly. A tongue of flame shot into the air and a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it.

Dumbledore caught the parchment piece and read it by the light of the goblet’s flames. “The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum.”

“No surprise there!” Ron shouted as a storm of applause and cheering swept the hall.

Krum rose from his seat and disappeared into the aforementioned chamber, though not before Karkaroff had boomed, “Bravo, Viktor! Knew you had it in you!”

The clapping and cheering died down and everyone’s attention was once again riveted on the goblet. It turned red a few seconds later and a second parchment was ejected.

Dumbledore read this as well. “The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!”

“Blimey, Harry, it’s  _that girl_!” Ron shoved Harry in the shoulder and the Boy Who Lived nodded slowly, barely registering the contact.

“Oh, look, they’re all disappointed,” Hermione said, meaning the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.

Harry didn’t look as he had squeezed his eyes shut. The noise of the hall was too much for even his Occluded senses and it was taking most of his restraint to just sit there and not do anything. If he even tried to focus on anything besides maintaining his shields, he knew the results wouldn’t be very pretty at all.

When Fleur had also disappeared into the side chamber, there was another hush. The Goblet of Fire turned red once more and threw out another piece of charred parchment.

“The Hogwarts champion,” Dumbledore called with finality, “is Cedric Diggory!”

Harry’s head sank to the table as the loudest cheering yet erupted in the Great Hall. His heart was thundering in his ears, and his muscles were vibrating with restrained tension.

Almost…  _Almost_ … He had to relax.

He inhaled deeply and gradually straightened, feeling the energy around him dissipate slightly as everyone’s excitement died down.

He noted Hermione’s worried look and gave her a wan smile, though he knew it probably looked absolutely pathetic.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore finally managed to say as the din died down. “Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—”

The Headmaster stopped speaking and it was evident to everyone why this was so as the Goblet of Fire’s flames had once again turned a ruby red. A long flame shot out of it, bearing a fourth and final piece of parchment.

Dumbledore slowly reached out a hand and took it, gazing at it for a long minute. When he finally cleared his throat and spoke, it was to say the two words Harry had been waiting for: “ _Harry Potter_.”

Although his name had been called, Harry didn’t immediately react. He sat there for a long moment, scanning the hall and skimming over the staff table. Crouch Jr. looked rather triumphant, although it was hard to make out under his mutilated visage. Severus’s face was carefully impassive, but then he was well aware of what to expect. Minerva was whispering into Dumbledore’s ear.

Finally, Harry’s eyes turned to Ron, who had turned ashen. He looked at his friend for a long moment, heart thundering in his ears, before Ron finally nodded.

“Go, Harry,” he whispered. “I know you didn’t do it.”

Harry swallowed, feeling the magic of the goblet settle beneath his skin and bind him to participating in the tournament. Feeling like all his limbs were weighted down, Harry relaxed his Occlumency shields slightly as the din that had made the Great Hall such a nightmare to be in wasn’t there. He slowly began making his way down to the staff table.

As he came up there, he locked eyes with Hagrid, who seemed absolutely stunned, and Dumbledore, who wasn’t smiling at all. Turning away as he went to the side chamber, Harry looked for Draco and found the Slytherin in the midst of the students, looking absolutely ashen; surprisingly, he met Harry’s eyes and tipped his head forward slightly.

Bolstered a tad by this show of support, Harry turned into the antechamber, the silence of the hall echoing behind him.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire and silhouetted rather impressively by the flames.

Fleur noticed when Harry walked in and threw her long silvery hair back over her shoulder. “What is it? Do zey want us back in ze hall?”

Harry simply shook his head and waited, his entire body as taut as a drum string. He didn’t dare Occlude as ferociously as he had in the hall, though. He needed his wits about him here.

There was a noise of scurrying feet and Harry whirled to find himself face to face with Ludo, who abruptly took him by the arm and didn’t know how lucky he was to not find himself on the business end of Harry’s wand.

“Extraordinary!” he muttered, squeezing Harry’s arm and oblivious to the tension in it. “Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen…lady,” he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three champions. “May I introduce – incredible though it may seem – the  _fourth_  Triwizard champion?”

Viktor Krum straightened, his face darkening as he inspected Harry, who stared coolly back. Cedric looked nonplussed and was looking from Ludo to Harry and back again as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

Fleur simply tossed her hair back and said, “Oh, vairy funny joke, Meester Bagman.”

“Joke?” Ludo repeated, sounding bewildered. “No, no, not at all! Harry’s name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!”

As the champions absorbed this information, Harry said through gritted teeth, “Please let go of my arm, Mr. Bagman.”

Fleur frowned contemptuously as Ludo did just that. “But evidently zair’as been a mistake. ’E cannot compete. ’E is too young.”

“Well…it is amazing,” Ludo said, rubbing his chin and smiling down at Harry, who had resorted to staring into the flames. “But, as you know, the age restriction was really only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name’s come out of the goblet…I mean, I don’t think there can be any ducking out at this stage… It’s down in the rules, you’re obliged… Harry will just have to do the best he—”

The door behind them opened again – Harry flinched and edged his wand back into his holster – letting Dumbledore, Crouch Sr., Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Minerva, and Severus inside. The Potions master locked eyes with Harry once and inclined his head, shifting to the back of the crowd.

“Madame Maxime!” Fleur said immediately, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!”

Madame Maxime was looking thoroughly impressive drawn to her full height. “What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?” she said imperiously.

“I’d rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore,” Karkaroff said, smiling coldly. His blue eyes were like steel as they went over Harry’s form, although he quickly took them off as Harry’s emerald gaze glared daggers at him. “ _Two_  Hogwarts champions? I don’t remember anyone telling me that the host school is allowed two champions – or have I not read the rules carefully enough?”

“C’est impossible,” Madame Maxime said, her hand resting on Fleur’s shoulder. “’Ogwarts cannot ’ave two champions. It is most injust.”

“We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore,” Karkaroff said. “Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools.”

“Are you suggesting, Igor, that Potter crossed the Headmaster’s Age Line by himself?” Severus asked coldly, his black eyes glittering.

Dumbledore was looking at Harry now, who met his blue eyes easily. He could hear the singing of the Elder Wand; the old wizard seemed to grip his robes absentmindedly, although Harry could see that he was clenching something.

“Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

“No,” Harry said truthfully.

“Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry kept his face blank as he said, “No, I didn’t.”

“Ah, but of course ’e is lying!” Madame Maxime cried.

“He could not have crossed the Age Line,” Minerva said sharply. “I am sure we are all agreed on that—”

“Dumbly-dorr must ’ave made a mistake wiz ze line,” Madame Maxime said, shrugging.

“Ma’am, with all respect,” Harry said, “if two of Hogwarts’ finest students”—there was a cough from the shadows that sounded suspiciously like it came from Severus—“couldn’t cross the Age Line, what makes you think a fourteen-year-old could have?”

“Yes, exactly!” Minerva said. “Harry is only fourteen. Dumbledore certainly did not make a mistake with the Age Line that would only allow  _Harry_  to cross it! And if we have made the matter quite clear that Harry did not cross the line and did not give his name to an older student to put inside, then I fail to see what we are even doing!”

“How did his name get into the goblet then?” Karkaroff demanded. He turned to Crouch and Ludo, who had been silent up to now. “Mr. Crouch, Mr. Bagman, you are our, er, objective judges. Surely you will agree that this is most irregular!”

Ludo wiped his face with his handkerchief and looked at Crouch, who was on the outskirts of the circle of firelight.

He spoke in his usual curt voice. “We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament.”

“Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front,” Ludo said, beaming and turning to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime.

“I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students,” Karkaroff said, an ugly look crossing his face. “You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It’s only fair, Dumbledore.”

“But, Karkaroff, it doesn’t work like that,” Ludo said. “The Goblet of Fire’s just gone out – it won’t reignite until the start of the next tournament—”

“—in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!” Karkaroff snapped. “After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!”

Harry braced himself as he felt Crouch Jr.’s Dark Mark approach. At the same time, Moody’s voice came from the door:

“Empty threat, Karkaroff. You can’t leave your champion now. He’s got to compete. They’ve all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?”

“Convenient?” said Karkaroff. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Moody.”

Harry locked eyes with Severus, who shifted slightly in the shadows in acknowledgement. Folding his arms across his chest, Harry shifted his stance and tried his best to look like a nervous fourth-year who was in over his head. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded or if he just looked like he was sulking.

“It’s very simple, Karkaroff,” Crouch Jr. was saying. “Someone put Potter’s name in that goblet knowing he’d have to compete if it came out.”

“Evidently, someone ’oo wished to give ’Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!” Madame Maxime sniffed indignantly.

“I quite agree, Madame Maxime,” Karkaroff said, bowing. “I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic  _and_  the International Confederation of Wizards—”

“If anyone’s got reason to complain, it’s Potter,” Crouch Jr. growled, “but…funny thing…I don’t hear  _him_  saying a word…”

“Why should ’e complain?” Fleur burst out, stamping her foot. “’E ‘as ze chance to compete, ’asn’t ’e? We ’ave all been ’oping for weeks and weeks! Ze honor—”

“Why should I complain?” Harry interrupted, catching everyone’s attention. “It’s not going to  _do_  anything. Like Mr. Crouch said, it’s a binding magical contract. I have to compete…regardless of whether I want it or not. And I have to tell you that I’m not happy about it. Who cares about the honor? I like my life where it is – in my body and not flying through the sky.”

“Maybe that’s what someone is hoping for,” Crouch Jr. said. “That you’re going to die for it.”

There was a tense silence at his words before Ludo anxiously said, “Moody, old man…what a thing to say!”

“We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn’t discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime,” Karkaroff scoffed loudly. “Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination, too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons.”

“Imagining things, am I?” Crouch Jr. growled. “Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy’s name in that goblet…”

“Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?” Madame Maxime demanded, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object!” Crouch Jr. snapped. “It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament… I’m guessing they submitted Potter’s name under a fourth school to make sure he was the only one in his category…”

Harry saw Severus move to speak but the Potions master was beaten to the punch by Karkaroff. “You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is – though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you’ll understand if we don’t take you entirely seriously…”

“There are those who’ll turn innocent occasions to their advantage,” Crouch Jr. snarled. “It’s my job think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff – as you ought to remember…”

“Alastor!” Dumbledore warned.

Severus made his move then. “Perhaps Igor is merely suggesting that if you suspected something like this to happen, you would have been watching the goblet for foul play.”

Crouch Jr.’s stolen magical eye whirled in Severus’s direction. “Well, Snape, one can hardly keep an eye on everything, can they? Perhaps you’d like to take the honor?”

“As much as I detest Potter,” Severus said silkily without missing a beat, “I would have to decline the honor. Even I do not wish to see him meet his match in the tournament.”

Dumbledore intervened before the conversation could become any more hostile. “How this situation arose, we do not know. It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the tournament. This, therefore they will do…”

“Ah, but, Dumbly-dorr—”

“My dear Madame Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it.”

As Madame Maxime could think of nothing to say and neither could Karkaroff, the conversation was taken over by Ludo.

“Well, shall we crack on, then?” he asked eagerly, rubbing his hands together and smiling around the room. “Got to give our champions their instructions, haven’t we? Barty, want to do the honors?”

After a moment, Crouch seemed to come out of a reverie that Harry recognized as Imperius-induced. “Yes, instructions. Yes…the first task…”

Moving into the fire, Harry could see that Crouch looked ill. Judging from Severus’s expression, he caught it as well.

“The first task,” Crouch began, “is designed to test your daring so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard…very important…

“The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the judges.

“The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.” He turned to Dumbledore. “I think that’s all, is it, Albus?”

“I think so,” Dumbledore said, looking at Crouch with concern. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?”

“No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry,” Crouch denied. “It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment… I’ve left young Weatherby”—Harry restrained a snort—“in charge… Very enthusiastic…a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told…”

Harry found himself feeling a little sympathetic for Percy.

“You’ll come and have a drink before you go, at least?” asked Dumbledore.

“Come on, Barty, I’m staying!” Ludo said so brightly that Harry wanted to cringe. “It’s all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!”

“I think not, Ludo,” Crouch said dismissively.

When Madame Maxime and Karkaroff also left with their champions despite Dumbledore’s invitation, the Headmaster turned to the Hogwarts champions.

“Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed,” Dumbledore said, smiling at both of them. “I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are wishing to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise.”

Nodding, Harry once again locked eyes with Severus and left with Cedric, gladly leaving Crouch Jr. behind.

The Great Hall was deserted and eerily illuminated with the lights in the pumpkins. Harry had to swallow and blink back the memory of the castle burning to the ground.

Thankfully, Cedric distracted him. “So,” he said, smiling slightly. “We’re playing against each other again!”

“Not much playing, to be honest,” Harry said. “I’m just going to be running around, trying not to get killed, while you’ll be calm and collected and passing the tasks like they’re exams.”

Cedric grinned at that. “Come on… You can’t be serious. You  _did_  put your name in, didn’t you? How’d you manage that anyway?”

“I’m fourteen, Cedric. If Fred and George, two brilliant pranksters, couldn’t get past that Age Line, what makes you think  _I_  could? Besides, you heard Moody. If I’d  _actually_  entered, it would’ve been under Hogwarts. Either way, the goblet only takes three different champions but didn’t this time because it was Confunded.”

“Right…” Cedric only looked half-convinced. “Well…see you, then.”

Before Cedric went off, Harry called after him, “Look, Cedric…I didn’t want to be in this tournament but I am. Good luck, all right?”

“You, too, Harry.”

Harry nodded at Cedric and headed towards his dorms. Although it would’ve been the truth the first time, this time it was a complete and utter lie that he didn’t want to be in the tournament. But to keep up the charade of being fourteen, he had to lie through his teeth.

Stopping outside of the portrait, Harry’s jangled nerves already tingled with stress. He inhaled deeply, clamped down his Occlumency shields as tightly as he could, and said the password, stepping into absolute calamity.

His reflexes enabled Harry to avoid the worst of the din and he scrambled up the stairs into the dorm, closing the door behind him with a relieved sigh. When he turned around, he found both Ron and Hermione looking at him.

Harry blinked, surprised. Annoyed that something like this had gotten past him (he would’ve been killed if it had been anyone else), he dropped his shields and kept the bare minimum.

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione cried, reaching out to wrap him in a hug. She noticed him stiffening and pulled away. “Are you all right? You were looking so ill before…Ron told me you thought something bad was going to happen.”

“And it did,” Harry said quietly, untangling himself from Hermione as politely as he could. He flopped down on a nearby bed, checking to see that it was Seamus’s. “Neither of you guys believe I put my name in that goblet, right?”

“I believe you,” Ron said. “I wouldn’t have…before I mean…” He was referencing the other night. “But you looked really sick before it happened, Harry…I’d have to be an absolute git  _not_  to believe you.”

“There’s no way you could have put your name in,” Hermione agreed. “It just makes me wonder who  _did_.”

“Moody reckons it was someone who wants to see me killed,” Harry said offhandedly. “Neither Karkaroff nor Maxime were exactly happy with me being the fourth champion so I figure it wasn’t them.”

“Well, Moody was a really great Auror,” Ron said, frowning. “If he thinks that, it must be true…”

“Yeah, well… _I_  think it’s downright suspicious, if you ask me,” Harry said, leaning over his knees. “Karkaroff said something about Moody’s paranoia… It got me thinking that if Moody really  _was_  that paranoid, shouldn’t he have been keeping an eye on that goblet?”

“It’s not like he expected anything to happen, did he?” Hermione asked.

“But that’s why he’s called Mad-Eye Moody,” Ron said reasonably. “He’s considered mad  _because_  he’s so paranoid. And that’s what paranoia’s about: preparing for things even though they’re not expected. Harry’s right…if he was that paranoid, he should’ve anticipated something like this happening.”

“Maybe he did and that’s why he looked so cross,” Hermione said. “He was looking mad when he went into that chamber after you,” she told Harry. “He’s probably upset that he didn’t stop it from happening.”

“Maybe…” Harry shook his head. “Look, it’s late and I’m tired. I really wasn’t feeling well earlier.” He looked seriously at his best friends. “You two know that I’m really thankful you’re by me, right?”

They smiled. “Of course, Harry.”

Smiling back at them, Harry was utterly thankful that they were his friends even now. He knew his behavior had been off-putting at times and Hermione was getting suspicious. Despite that, they still stuck with him. They weren’t the friends he’d fought with in the war, but they were the same people.

* * *

 

**January 9, 2001**

“Potter, are you absolutely sure about this?” Draco whispered to Harry.

“What? You aren’t?”

“Well, no… It’s  _Snape_.”

Harry shot his friend a grin. “Come on. Either you’re in or you’re out.” He waved the package he held under Draco’s nose. “I’m not giving it to him for you.”

“He still doesn’t trust me!” Draco said desperately.

“He relies on you,” Harry said. “Trust isn’t something he’ll give easily. I think there’s only one person he actually trusted completely…”

“And he’s dead,” Draco said gloomily. “Brilliant, Potter.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Ron and Hermione aren’t exactly on the in with him either,” Harry said. “It can’t hurt, Draco. I’ll vouch for you.”

Draco didn’t say anything else and allowed Harry to knock on Severus’s door. It opened silently, revealing Severus’s scowling face.

“Harry,” he said curtly. “Malfoy…”

“Happy Birthday, Severus,” Harry said cheerfully, pushing the present at Severus. “Can we come in?”

Draco smiled weakly at his former Head of House and held up his own gift. “Er…Happy Birthday.”

Severus stared at the two wizards for a long moment before sighing and letting them in. “You’ll never let it rest, will you, Potter?” he complained to Harry.

Harry laughed. “Should I, Severus? It’s your  _birthday_.”

Grumbling, Severus let them into his sitting room and was nonplussed to find a birthday cake there made to his specifications.

Harry took a seat, inwardly grinning as Draco lingered uncertainly by the doorway. This could go a long way towards bonding the two Slytherins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! I love hearing feedback. <3


	9. Rita Skeeter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where it starts to get a bit more gruesome and earn its warning...

**July 31, 2001**

Harry was woken up with a soft kiss that morning. He opened his eyes to find Ginny smiling down at him.

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” Ginny whispered, snuggling into him. “Did you sleep well?”

Harry blinked at the ceiling, unthinkingly folding her into an embrace. “Yeah…I did actually. You?”

“All right.” Ginny gave a small shrug. She stretched out like a cat, nuzzling into her boyfriend’s neck. “Any plans for today?”

“Hmm… Try not to get killed?”

Ginny smacked him in the shoulder. “I meant seriously, Harry.”

“Would defeating Voldemort be too much to ask for?”

“We could probably arrange for something,” Ginny said. “The bastard deserves it. But really, Harry.”

Harry looked at her guiltily. “Is it so hard to believe that I don’t want to celebrate this…anniversary?”

Ginny’s eyes darkened and she sat up away from Harry. “It wasn’t your fault, Harry.”

“It was my birthday present from him,” Harry said quietly. “Doesn’t that—”

“No!” Ginny said furiously. “Just because  _he_  decided to blow up the Burrow and everyone inside it”—her voice choked—“on  _your_  birthday doesn’t make it your fault!”

“But your mum and dad…Fleur…Percy…”

“George, Charlie, Ron, Bill, and I are  _all_  still here. We don’t intend to let what that bastard did go unanswered. And I know you: You won’t let it go either.” Ginny smiled sadly at him. “Now come on, lazy bones. They’re all waiting for you in the common room.”

“Even Draco?”

“After much consideration, I have decided to grace your party with my presence,” Draco Malfoy’s drawling voice came from the bedroom doorway. “Now if the nausea-inducing morning greeting is over, get dressed, Potter. We’re all waiting.”

Harry sat up. “Is my present from you the fact that you’ll drop my last name and call me Harry?”

Draco simply raised his eyebrows snootily. “Five minutes. Then I make no promises about the state of your room.”

Harry shot an amused Ginny an alarmed look and dashed out of bed to rummage through his wardrobe for some acceptable robes. When he found them, he pulled them on in the bathroom and opened the door, still sticking an arm through the sleeve.

“I don’t think Malfoy was serious,” Ginny teased.

“Better safe than sorry with him,” Harry said, remembering with a shudder the time Draco had turned his entire room neon pink.

“You still have a minute,” Ginny said, stopping him from leaving. “Enough time to do this…” She pulled him into a searing kiss.

It was two minutes later when a dazed Harry and a smug Ginny made their appearance in the common room.

Ron took one look at them and groaned. “I don’t even want to know, do I?”

“Then don’t ask,” Ginny said sweetly.

“Happy Birthday, Harry,” George said, shooting the now twenty-year-old an amused grin. “Nice night?”

“Peaceful,” Harry said, shooting Severus a look.

“It’s probably nothing,” Severus said reassuringly. “This isn’t the first time he’s been quiet without something happening.”

“I’m more worried about the  _other_  reason,” Harry said moodily. “You know…the part where he explodes things?”

Draco rolled his eyes upward. “Always so cheerful, aren’t you, Potter? Can’t resist looking on the light—” he cut himself off with a strangled gasp, clutching his left forearm.

“Draco?” Harry asked, alarmed. His gaze darted towards Severus, and he saw the normally impassive man with his face drawn in silent pain but also clutching his left arm.

“Blimey, You-Know-Who just won’t give  _any_  of us a break!” Ron gaped. “What the hell is happening?”

Harry furrowed his brow, reaching out to the two men to sense what was happening. His face paled as he felt the Dark Magic twisting around their Dark Marks.

Without warning, he grabbed Draco’s arm and yanked up the sleeve, baring the ugly mark. To his eyes it seemed to be pulsing, though to everyone else it was still. The only evidence something was up was the straining muscles and the black stain spreading out from the Mark.

“What’s happening, Harry?” Hermione demanded. “What—”

“Shh!” Harry shushed her. He looked up at Severus and dragged Draco behind him to place both men next to each other.

“Don’t—” Severus groaned as Harry revealed his Mark.

Harry didn’t know what it was but it felt undeniably Dark and so  _wrong_. It smelt like something was rotting away and corrupting the magic of the two ex-Death Eaters.

Knowing that he had to do  _something_  or watch his two friends die in front of him, Harry grabbed their left arms and focused on trying to untwist whatever was happening. But the magic was twisting Dark faster than he could fix it with his little experience.

Desperate, Harry began hissing at the Marks, unintentionally slipping into Parseltongue. “ ** _Release them. Release these two men from your grasp!_** ”

The Mark did nothing but send another pulse of foul magic that Harry hastened to untwist before it could infect the two.

“ ** _Release them!_** ”

Instinctively in his desperation, Harry twisted his  _own_  magic to match the signature that was emitting from the Marks. “ ** _RELEASE THEM!_** ”

With his own magic now matching the signature of the Marks, the last command was instantly obeyed as the foul magic abruptly stopped pulsing and the Dark Marks disintegrated into nothingness.

Harry stared at the now unblemished forearms of his friends, breathing heavily and hearing his heart pound in his ears. It was now that he realized his scar was furiously tingling, making his whole head numb.

Harry rocked back on his heels, almost falling over if it weren’t for Severus making a grab for his arm.

The Potions master was whiter than normal and his eyes glittered strangely. “Are you all right, Harry?”

Harry looked blankly at Severus. Shouldn’t he be the one asking that? He checked the magic of Severus and Draco and was pleased to note that it was pure, purer than what it had been when they possessed the Dark Mark.

“Bloody  _hell_!” Ron shouted, goggling at the unblemished forearms.

“Language, Ron!” Hermione scolded.

“ _Blimey_ , Hermione! Harry got  _rid_  of the  _Dark Mark_!”

Draco was staring incredulously at his arm. “Thanks, Harry,” he choked out.

Mindful of Severus’s helpful arm, Harry grabbed onto it for extra support and grinned happily at Draco. “You called me Harry,” he said, sounding weird to his ears. Come to think of it…he was  _feeling_  weird, too.

“Harry,” Severus said firmly, “fix your magic.”

Fix his magic? Why – oh. It was still twisted into the signature of the Marks. Sighing, all Harry had to do was let go and his magic twisted back to normal. As he did, he suddenly felt utterly exhausted and fell back, Severus being too unsettled from the earlier incident to save him.

He heard Ginny’s alarmed cry. “ _Harry_!”

Severus stopped Harry from hitting his head on the ground and knelt by him.

“Wonder if he’s exploding anything,” Harry mused, his voice weak.

That was the last thing he managed before he succumbed to exhaustion.

* * *

**November 2, 1994**

When Harry made his way down to the common room that morning, he was accosted by Hermione, who was clutching a parchment and quill.

“Harry, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before!” she whispered frantically. “You should write to Sirius!”

Harry stared at her blankly for a moment before dimly remembering that he had written to Sirius the first time. Although he didn’t need his godfather’s help this time, it would seem suspicious if he didn’t let him know.

So he smiled. “Brilliant, Hermione! I should’ve thought of that myself. Hand me that, will you?”

Taking the parchment and quill Hermione had brought for this, Harry scribbled out a quick note to Sirius.

_Sirius,_

_I’ve been entered in the Triwizard Tournament. I don’t know how and I don’t know who but it’s absolutely insane. I have to compete regardless of what I say._

_Please don’t go absolutely crazy upon reading this. I’ll be **fine**. I’ve got Ron and Hermione and I know Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall are on my side as well. Just stay safe and don’t go doing anything reckless._

_I can’t exactly compete in this tournament if I’m worrying about you, can I?_

_Harry_

Harry folded the note and nodded to Hermione. “I’ll meet you and Ron down in the Great Hall for breakfast while I jimmy up and get this to Hedwig.”

It didn’t take long for Harry to climb to the Owlery and give Hedwig the letter. When he arrived in the Great Hall, it was to find Ron glaring daggers at the Slytherin table and even Hermione looking slightly cross.

“What’s up?” he whispered, sliding into his seat.

“Slimy Slytherins, the lot of them,” Ron grumbled angrily, glaring a fifth year who, smirking, flashed a  _POTTER STINKS!_  badge in their direction.

Huh… Harry had somehow completely forgotten about those badges.

Harry simply shrugged and put some bacon on his plate. “We can’t all be Gryffindors,” he murmured, stabbing his bacon with a fork. “Ignore them, Ron.”

“You would think they could show more inter-school solidarity!” Hermione fumed, shooting a glare at a Ravenclaw also sporting the badge. “What sort of impression must this give to the other schools?”

“That they hate me,” Harry said blandly, downing the rest of his pumpkin juice. “Honestly, Hermione, I’m not that worried about it.” He shot his friends a grin. “I have you guys and that’s pretty much all I need.”

“The rest of my family’s behind you, too, you know,” Ron informed him, pointing to the letter he’d received that morning while Harry was in the Owlery. “Mum’s just furious about the whole thing. Dad says there isn’t anything we can do, though you already said that Crouch said that last night…”

“Yep.” Harry stood and picked up his book bag. “C’mon. We’ve got Double Potions. I don’t think Snape is going to appreciate us being late.”

“He never does,” Ron scoffed, following Harry out of the Great Hall.

“Speaking of whom,” Hermione said, “he went in the chamber with the other professors. Did he do anything?”

“No, not really. He said he detested me but didn’t wish me dead and pointed out that Moody should’ve been more vigilant.” Harry shrugged. “All in all, rather tame for Snape if you ask me.”

“Perhaps he pitied you, Potter,” a snide voice said. The trio turned to see Pansy Parkinson standing there, smirking. She continued, “After all, you’re not even the  _real_  Hogwarts champion.”

Accompanying Pansy were Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bulstrode.

“What do you mean, Parkinson?” Ron demanded. “You saw the goblet last night.”

“Oh, but wasn’t it more of an afterthought?” Pansy grinned maliciously and fingered the badge displayed on her robes. The green emblem of  _POTTER STINKS_  flashed at them. “Like it, Potter? It changes, too!” She touched it and the words changed to read  _SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY, THE REAL HOGWARTS CHAMPION_. “Now everyone knows!”

“Oh shut it!” Ron snarled. He grabbed Harry by the arm, who twitched at the unexpected contact. “Come on, Harry. Don’t bother with her.”

Harry didn’t say that it was Ron who was bothered. He couldn’t care any less about Pansy and her entourage. It was slightly funny, though, that while Draco didn’t rub it in his face this time, it still happened via a different Slytherin.

It was something to tell Severus.

No sooner did they turn their back, though, did Harry feel his hairs on the back of his neck and arms rise as his instincts screamed “ _Danger!_ ” He stepped to the side hastily, dodging an orange curse that splashed against the stones. Whipping out his wand, he whirled around, a purple curse leaving his wand and flying right by Pansy’s cheek only due to a last-minute twitch of his fingers.

Pansy had no idea how close she’d come to escaping mortal injury, Harry realized grimly. He’d barely managed to deflect that curse.

“You—!” Ron snapped out his own wand from his robes and aimed a spell at them. “ _Furnunculus_!”

The curse hit Pansy directly in the face, causing her to break out into painful boils. Howling, she bent over, clutching her face.

“ _Densaugeo_!” The hex from Millicent’s wand went wide as it bounced off Harry’s shield. Unfortunately, it bounced right into Hermione’s face and the effects were instantly seen as her teeth began growing rapidly.

“Hermione!” Ron cried, horrified.

The clamor from the fighting had caused Severus to come rushing out of his classroom. He stopped short upon seeing the sight of Pansy covered in boils, Millicent and Daphne with wands out, and a wandless Harry meeting his eyes grimly, hiding a panicking Ron and a humiliated Hermione from sight.

“What is going on here?” he asked in a dangerously low voice.

“They attacked us, Professor!” Daphne said instantly.

“What? Us?” Harry retaliated before Severus could say anything. “You’re the ones with your wands out!” He’d flicked his wand back into the holster when Severus had come running.

True enough, only Daphne and Millicent had their wands out. Pansy’s was lying on the floor and Ron’s had been filched by Harry when he’d gone to look over Hermione.

Looking at the Slytherins and Gryffindors, Severus’s eyes narrowed. “Ms. Parkinson, head up to the Hospital Wing and have that looked at. Ms. Bulstrode, you will accompany her. The rest of you, inside.”

“What about Hermione?” Ron started indignantly. “She was attacked, too! Bulstrode hit her with a hex.”

Severus looked critically at Hermione, whose hands had been forced down by Ron. “I see no difference,” he said coldly.

Utterly humiliated and with teeth that were skimming her collar, Hermione turned on her heel and ran up the corridor, presumably to the Hospital Wing.

Ron flushed furiously and would have started yelling at Severus if Harry hadn’t hit him with a wandless and whispered Silencing Charm. Instead, he choked angrily and glared Severus, who simply curled his lip and swept into the classroom.

Relieved that the crisis had partly been averted, Harry pushed Ron into the classroom, releasing the charm as he did.

“That slimy  _git_!” Ron whispered furiously, slamming his supplies onto the table. “If it had been us, it would’ve points and detention! But with Slytherin it’s as if they can do no wrong!”

“I saw his face,” Harry said quietly, setting up his materials. “He’s furious but not at us. I’m thinking those three are going to be in trouble in private.”

Ron shot an incredulous look at Harry. “You’re siding with him? He said Hermione—”

“I heard. That was cruel but it’s  _Snape_. What’d you expect?”

Still muttering angrily, Ron set up his own Potions supplies, leaving Harry to stew in his thoughts.

He felt ridiculously stupid for having let that confrontation spiral out of control like that. His reflexes weren’t up to par, and it had resulted in Hermione being cursed. But if he  _had_  reacted normally…there’d be several more deaths on his hands. That was the whole reason for why he was dampening his reflexes through his Occlumency.

Still…knowing that didn’t alleviate his guilt.

“Antidotes!” Severus said, looking around at the class. “You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one…”

“You didn’t have time last week so you’re making us do it now?” Ron muttered under his breath, scowling. “Bloody brilliant…absolutely  _brilliant_.”

Before Severus could commence his torture of his terrified class, a knock sounded at the door and Colin came in.

He walked up to Severus’s desk.

“Yes?” Severus asked curtly.

“Please, sir, I’m supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs.”

Severus stared down at Colin, who began to look nervous under his intimidating stare. “Potter has another hour of Potions to complete. He will come upstairs when this class is finished.”

“Sir – sir, Mr. Bagman wants him,” Colin stammered, turning pink. “All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs…”

Harry gave a mental sigh and began to clean away his smaller Potions ingredients, aware that Severus was genuinely annoyed at this but not at Harry himself – since he’d prepared for this from talking with him.

“Very well, then,” Severus snapped. “Potter, leave your things here. You still have an antidote to brew.”

“Please, sir – he’s got to take his things with him,” Colin pleaded. “All the champions—”

“ _Fine_!” Severus glared sharply at Colin. “Potter – take your bag and get out!”

Harry nodded sharply, seized the rest of his things, and followed Colin out, who couldn’t seem to leave the classroom fast enough. From what he remembered, that was less snarky than last time.

“Wow, Harry,” Colin said once they were out, “I really can’t believe you actually did it!”

Harry decided to play stupid. He could do that. “Did what?”

“Put your name in the goblet!”

“Oh that… Pretty good answer to that: I didn’t.”

“Oh, come on, Harry! I won’t tell.”

“No, really. I didn’t put it in,” Harry said, making his way to the entrance hall. “Anyway…what do they want photos for?”

“For the  _Daily Prophet_ , I think,” Colin said, leaving the topic alone.

“Brilliant,” Harry muttered, not having to fake the disgust in his tone. “Absolutely brilliant…”

Colin didn’t seem to notice Harry’s disgust and left him at the entrance to the right room. “Good luck!”

“I’ll need it,” Harry said, opening the door.

Upon examining the room and finding that it was still a small classroom with several comfortable chairs and with the other champions, a photographer, and Rita Skeeter milling about, Harry was accosted by Ludo and almost fell back out of the door if it wasn’t for the man grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

“Ah, here he is! Champion number four! In you come, Harry, in you come…nothing to worry about, it’s just the wand weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment.”

“Will it be over quick enough so I can get back to class?” Harry asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Ludo looked surprised that Harry would even  _want_  to go back to class. “Oh no, Harry. The wand weighing ceremony’s a very serious business, you know. There’s going to be a little photo shoot afterward. This is Rita Skeeter,” he said, gesturing towards the reporter. “She’s doing a small piece on the tournament for the  _Daily Prophet_ …”

“Maybe not  _that_  small, Ludo,” Rita said, eyeing Harry like one would a piece of meat.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the witch in magenta robes, wishing she’d do something different with her hair so she wouldn’t look so hideously ugly.

“I wonder if I could have a little word with Harry before we start?” Rita asked Ludo, still looking at Harry. “The youngest champion, you know…to add a bit of color?”

“Certainly!” Ludo agreed. “That is – if Harry has no objections?”

“Well, I do,” Harry said instantly, stopping Rita from grabbing his arm. “I don’t want to  _be_  the article – and from what I’ve heard about you, Ms. Skeeter, I have no doubt that’s exactly what you would make it into. I didn’t want to be in this tournament, so you shouldn’t be interviewing me.”

Rita’s eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline. “Really, Harry—”

“But if you  _absolutely_ insist,” Harry said, sighing loudly, “then you must do the other champions as well. Would that be a problem, Mr. Bagman?” he asked Ludo.

Rita had a sour look on her face as Ludo happily agreed, calling the other champions over.

“Rita Skeeter has agreed to interview all of you for a piece in the article the  _Daily Prophet_  is publishing!” Ludo said, beaming around at them all. “So if you would all—”

“Perhaps individually, Ludo?” Rita interrupted. “Maybe Harry—”

Harry coughed loudly, somehow managing to make it sound like “ _beetle_ ” as he did. The sound cut Rita off and she eyed Harry suspiciously, receiving only a beatific smile. He raised his eyebrows, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“Sorry, I thought I swallowed a beetle or something,” Harry said pleasantly.

Catching the unspoken message, Rita hastily said, “Right this way.” She beamed falsely at the champions – three of whom were highly confused.

Instead of the broom cupboard Harry remembered from last time, Rita drew them to an isolated corner of the room and pulled out her notepad. She rummaged around in her purse for a few more moments, a puzzled expression on her face, before she finally just pulled out a regular quill. The Quick-Quotes Quill had been burnt to ashes by Harry the moment he could do so.

“Now then,” Rita said, scribbling hastily on the pad. “How do you feel now that you’re competing in the tournament?”

“Honored,” Krum said.

“It is an ’onor,” Fleur agreed.

“Both nervous and excited,” Cedric said.

“Scared out of my wits,” Harry said, drawing stares from the others. “What? I didn’t ask to be entered!”

Rita was still scribbling away. “What do you think your parents would say?”

“Zey are fully supportive,” Fleur said.

“Proud,” Krum said shortly and Rita seemed slightly cross at the answer.

“My dad’s never been prouder,” Cedric answered.

“Mine are dead,” Harry said gloomily.

“But what do you  _think_  they would say?” Rita pressed.

“I dunno. They’re dead, right? They’d probably be riling at the Ministry and get me out.” Harry cocked his head to the side. “Unless they’d be super excited about their son potentially dying because some git put his name in the goblet?”

Rita had momentarily paused in her writing but then picked it up again. “Very well, Harry… Can you remember your parents at all?”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well,  _I_ can’t but I’m sure the others could. How about it?” he asked the others. “Remember your folks?”

“Of corze,” Fleur said, sounding insulted.

“Vy vud you think ve vuldn’t?” Krum asked.

“My dad writes me every day,” Cedric said, catching onto what Harry was doing.

Rita flushed slightly but before she could ask another question, Dumbledore and the other judges had entered the room. The Headmaster swept his eyes over their little corner and his blue eyes twinkled as he saw that Rita was interviewing all of them.

“Excellent!” Dumbledore said, beaming. “You’re all here. That means the Weighing of the Wands can commence. If you would take a seat…”

The four champions left Rita without a word and took seats. The judges sat at the velvet-covered table and Rita moved to a corner that was closer to the proceedings. She was still holding her regular quill but was rummaging around her bag, presumably still searching for the Quick-Quotes Quill that was ashes at the bottom; she’d probably discover it later that night.

“May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?” Dumbledore said, sitting at the judges’ table. “He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament.”

Harry looked over to where Ollivander was standing by the window and was unnerved by the pale eyes and wiry white hair. He was thirty-years-old, and the old wand-maker still gave him the shivers. It didn’t really help that the Elder Wand was singing in his ears.

He hadn’t missed the singing during the Goblet of Fire’s ceremony, and it wasn’t even until now that he realized he  _hadn’t_  heard it. It looked like Occlumency was good for more than one thing, even if it was a last resort because Harry was pretty much helpless if he Occluded to that level.

Although perhaps he should reconsider, as Dumbledore’s hand was passing over his robes again. On second thought…nah, he wouldn’t. If the Headmaster couldn’t keep track of a wand, then he really shouldn’t have one at all.

Ollivander stepped into the middle of the room. “Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?” he asked.

Fleur stepped over and handed Ollivander her wand.

“Hmmm…” Ollivander twirled wand between his fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks; he examined it carefully. “Yes, nine and a half inches…inflexible…rosewood…and containing…dear me…”

“An ‘air from ze ‘ead of a veela,” Fleur explained. “One of my grandmuzzer’s.”

“Yes, yes, I’ve never used veela hair myself, of course, I find it makes for rather temperamental wands…however, to each his own, and if this suits you…” Ollivander checked the wand for bumps and scratches and muttered, “ _Orichideous_!” A bunch of flowers burst from the flower tips. “Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order.”

Ollivander handed the wand back to Fleur. “Mr. Diggory, you next.”

Harry tuned out the rest of the ceremony as he knew nothing would be wrong with anyone’s wands, including his own. He’d become very good at taking care of his wand during the war as it was his only weapon. Although they’d fallen into the habit of collecting the wands of those they defeated, it wasn’t exactly the norm for them to use those wands.

In the meantime, he contented himself with studying the singing of the Elder Wand. It really was a peculiar business. Why would he be able to hear the wand singing when he hadn’t been able to before? And why would Dumbledore need to keep a hand on it?

Unless…was he still its master? How was that even possible? He hadn’t Disarmed Draco until seventh year, and Draco had Disarmed Dumbledore a year before. Neither event had happened yet, so  _how_  was he still the wand’s master?

Puzzling over the matter, Harry almost missed Ollivander calling him.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Harry went over to Ollivander and handed his wand over with no small amount of trepidation. He had no idea if the crafty man could tell if anything was different with his wand and didn’t feel comfortable just handing it over.

“Aaah, yes,” Ollivander said with satisfaction. “Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember.”

Waiting anxiously, Harry agonized over every small motion Ollivander made as he inspected the holly and phoenix-feather wand. Finally, he made a fountain of wine spout from the tip and handed it over, once again pronouncing it in fine working condition.

It was with relief that Harry made an elaborate motion with his hands to conceal the fact that it slipped into his holster on his forearm.

“Thank you all,” Dumbledore said, standing at the judges’ table. “You may go back to your lessons now or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—”

The champions got up to leave when the man with the camera jumped into action.

“Photos, Dumbledore, photos!” Ludo cried excitedly, jumping up and down like a kid in a candy store. “All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?”

As Harry barely managed to allow himself to be manhandled, he wondered just what the hell he’d gotten himself into by allowing himself to be entered into the Triwizard Tournament again.

* * *

**August 2, 2001**

“Still no word on what he wants, eh?” Draco asked, leaning over the couch which Harry was lying on.

Harry put down the copy of the  _Prophet_  he’d been reading. “I don’t go prancing around in Voldemort’s”—Draco winced—“head on a daily basis. It’s not healthy.”

“Could you not say his name?” Draco hissed.

“Why? The Dark Mark’s gone and not paining you anymore. Unless there’s some residue you haven’t told me about?”

Draco pursed his lips in annoyance. “No, there’s nothing. But it still feels wrong.”

“Wrong as in habitually wrong or wrong as in magically wrong?” Harry pressed.

Draco shot him a peeved look. “You should know better than anyone, Harry.”

Sighing, Harry brought a hand up to massage his scar. “It tingles numbly when I say it. But it’s stupid to be scared of a name even if it brings some sort of physical reaction. So—”

“If his name turns Taboo like last time you should be used to referring to him by another name,” Draco pointed out.

Thinking about it like that made more sense. Harry grinned as he knew what name he’d call Voldemort by now. “Well, ol’ Tom’ll be pissed.”

Draco didn’t seem impressed. “ _Tom_? Couldn’t think of anything more creative?”

“It’s his Muggle name and he absolutely hates it,” Harry explained. “It’s his problem for making his chosen name Taboo.”

“How positively Slytherin of you, Potter. He’s going to want to kill you even more now.”

“Isn’t that the goal? Get him riled up enough that the rest of the world realizes he  _isn’t_  too scared of me?”

Draco made a dismissive noise. “Morons, the lot of them. What other proof do they need? Hogwarts Express was  _attacked_  a year ago and the Burrow exploded before that.”

Harry’s eyes had darkened. “They don’t want the nightmare to start again. To be honest, I can’t blame them.”

“But  _you’re_  not pretending to be made out of sand.”

“You mean I’m not sticking my head in the sand like an ostrich,” Harry said dryly.

“Whatever. Muggles…”

Harry rolled his eyes in amusement and returned to his reading. No sooner had he done so did someone Floo into the room, tumbling ungracefully out of the grate.

His witty remark about how he wasn’t the only clumsy one now died on his tongue as he saw how panicked this Polyjuiced form of Hermione was looking. Her short blonde hair was sticking all over the place and her clothes were singed.

“Diagon Alley’s being attacked!” she said wildly, her voice slightly higher-pitched than normal.

“ _What_?” Harry jolted upright. “In broad daylight? Is he barking  _mad_?”

Severus bolted out of his room, having heard Hermione and Harry. “You should know, Harry,” he said grimly. “Whether it is day or night makes no difference to him.”

“Where’re the others?” Harry demanded.

“They’re helping! The Death Eaters –  _Harry_!”

Harry was grabbing a handful of Floo powder. “If you didn’t want me to come you shouldn’t have come and told us,” he snapped. “I can’t just stay and do nothing! Besides, how do  _you_  propose we beat him if we’re just sitting around and twiddling our thumbs?”

“You’re not going alone,” Draco said, face ashen. “Snape and I will be right behind you.”

Harry gave a sharp nod before throwing the Floo powder in and shouting “Diagon Alley!”

“What if they blocked the Floo?” he heard Hermione ask before he was sucked into the network.

Fuck, he hadn’t considered that.

A moment later he came up against some sort of block. Without thinking, he reached out magically and tore through it, the effort leaving him slightly lightheaded as he was ejected from the Floo and into a large person.

Whoever it was grunted heavily as Harry threw both of them into the far wall. He felt Dark Magic on the person and gasped a “ _Stupefy_!”, pushing off as the Dark Wizard slumped against the wall.

“He’s broken through the block on the Floo!” he heard someone shout.

Harry glanced over and Stunned the person before he could do anything else. As he did, the Floo flared green and Severus gracefully stepped out.

“It wasn’t blocked, then?” he asked, examining the situation.

“It was,” Harry said breathlessly. “I unblocked it.”

Severus raised an eyebrow as Draco Flooed in, followed shortly by a still Polyjuiced Hermione.

“Thank God!” she exclaimed, thoroughly frazzled. “They didn’t manage to block it? They were trying as I Flooed!”

“I unblocked it, I think,” Harry said. He was looking out of the windows with Severus now. They were too grimy to see much. “Where’re the others?”

“By Flourish and Blotts when I left,” Hermione said quickly.

Harry and Severus ducked as a Blasting Curse shattered the windows, the light of which had been easily visible despite the griminess.

“Out we go?” Harry asked.

Severus spared a nod and crept to the door, followed by the others.

When they stepped out, it was instant bedlam. Harry looked at the building they had exited and promptly felt like throwing up. The windows hadn’t been covered with grime but rather blood. The bottom half of a wizard was plastered to the ground and the base of the wall. The top half had imploded.

“Ugh,” Draco groaned, looking green. “That is just sick.”

“Keep your wits about you!” Severus snapped, not giving the sight more than a passing glance.

Harry tore his eyes off the bloody corpse and grabbed Hermione by the arm. The street they were in was empty and there was no sign of the caster of the Blasting Curse. But empty didn’t mean the area was unoccupied as they could hear the shouts of casting and the crackle of spells.

They’d just approached a corner when a Death Eater stumbled out, a gaping hole in his torso and half an arm ripped off.

“What the  _hell_?” Draco choked.

Severus simply reacted by blowing the supposed-to-be-dead man across the street with  _Depulso_. “Harry, what do you feel?”

“Back me up?” Harry asked. Upon receiving nods and two insulted looks, he focused on the magic around them. He instantly recoiled upon feeling the same rotting tinge that had been emitting from the Dark Marks of Severus and Draco before he’d gotten rid of them.

“Harry?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

He opened his eyes, swallowing. “It feels…like something’s rotting. Like what your Marks felt like,” he told the men.

“What does that mean?” Hermione sounded fearful.

“That,” Severus said grimly as they moved to the main street.

“That – that Death Eater doesn’t even have his whole head!” Hermione squeaked. “So—”

“Inferi,” Harry whispered in horror, realizing that their very magic was decaying like their bodies.

“But not normal,” Severus observed.

“They’re usually mindless corpses incapable of independent thought,” Draco said, still in the shadows of the alley. “The Dark Lord must have done something.”

Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. “The Dark Lord, Draco, really?”

“I actually value my skin!” Draco hissed. “Call him what you want.”

“Heads up, you two,” Severus warned snappily. “This is no time to lose your focus. Keep your fire spells ready.”

Harry struck at an armless Death Eater that wandered their way. “ _Incendio_!” The man was set aflame and fell over, lying still.

“O-oh,” Hermione croaked, looking extremely sick. “ _C-Confringo_!” Her spell missed the Death Eater who was setting a store on fire and exploded a kart.

“Brilliant, Granger! This is how you do it… _Confringo_!” Draco’s curse hit the Death Eater and knocked him into the blazing store.

“This is no time to be squeamish,” Severus snapped. “Get to it, you three. Stay together and look for the others.” With that, he swept down the alley.

Draco scowled. “Harry, you’d better go after him. You’re the only one he’ll listen to and he really shouldn’t be alone here.”

“Right.  _Protego_!” Harry blocked an incoming curse and set off after his friend. “Stay safe!”

Harry found himself dodging and shooting curses back at the undead Death Eaters while making his way to Severus. He  _Incendioed_ ,  _Confringoed_ ,  _Expulsoed_ , and  _Depulsoed_  his way through the horde, blocking the path off behind him with fire.

When he finally reached Severus, the other pulled him into an alley. “What are you doing, Potter?” he demanded angrily.

“Draco can take care of Hermione and didn’t want you to be alone,” Harry said, repressing an eye roll at the “Potter.” “Personally, I agree.”

“Brilliant. I’m being babysat by a brat.”

“I’m twenty, not eleven,  _Severus_ ,” Harry said, stressing the name. “I’ve also been trained as an Auror.”

“Crash trained, you mean,” Severus muttered, glowering at Harry. He considered the situation. “Very well…You do know what to do. Can you sense your friends?”

“They’re your friends, too,” Harry said indignantly. “And what am I? A bloody sensor? This ability isn’t a solution to everything. I can’t sense anything outside of all the Dark Magic and that’s making me sick since we’re fighting the bloody undead!”

Severus inclined his head sharply in response. “We’ll search by ears and eyes then.”

Feeling slightly guilty that he’d lost his temper back there, Harry followed Severus into war. He wasn’t the only one stressing out here. But there wasn’t any time to apologize now so he’d apologize later.

If there was a later, that was…

Shaking the lugubrious thought off, Harry focused on not getting himself killed. Why was it that he was only familiar with four spells that used fire? Couldn’t Auror school have taught him the spell Dumbledore had used in that cave?

A Death Eater with his entrails hanging out of his orifices was laughing madly as he chased a witch in purple robes.

“ _Incendio_!” Harry roared, setting the bastard on fire. He didn’t give the witch a passing glance and chased after Severus.

It was bloody chaos, Harry realized numbly, shooting more incendiary spells at the Death Eaters, making them nonverbal this time. The entire alley was a virtual bloodbath as there were literally no survivors. The Death Eaters weren’t playing this time and it was violent.

God… He hoped his friends were still alive.

“They’ll be fine, Potter,” Severus said, reading the naked emotion on the younger wizard’s face. “They know their Defense.”

“I know.” But that fact didn’t make him feel much better. If anything, it made him feel slightly worse since that would put them right into the thick of battle.

Just as he’d thought this, Harry realized that the Death Eaters approaching them from this direction were rather worse for the wear. That didn’t mean they weren’t still dangerous and Harry had to keep on his toes.

Severus suddenly swore. “Blast! Anti-Apparition wards have been completely set up and are surrounding the entire Alley.”

Harry focused on something other than setting his enemies on fire and realized that it was true. “Brilliant. But if I’m right, then our friends are just up ahead.”

Severus narrowed his eyes and cast a wide-range  _Reducto_  that blew a hole in the street. It cleared the area enough so that they could see Ron and Ginny backed up against a shop and firing off spells.

Harry quickly cast  _Sonorus_. “Ron – Ginny!”

The two Weasleys looked up at the two and simultaneous expressions of relief crossed their faces. They began approaching them but were halted by the appearance of another wizard that had both Harry and Severus staring at him.

“Blimey. Is that—?”

“It is,” Severus said.

It was the wizard Severus had taken care of when first arriving in Diagon Alley. Although rather burnt and with his clothes still smoking, the undead wizard was grinning crookedly at them, his teeth stained with blood.

“Not dead yet, you two,” he said, smirking.

“You know, I don’t think I recognize him,” Harry murmured. “In fact, I don’t recognize most of the Death Eaters here.”

“Cullen, if I’m right,” Severus murmured back, keeping his eyes on the undead wizard. “I recognize that lazy eye of his. He died during my first year.”

“Huh.” Harry acknowledged the unspoken “as a Death Eater” and stared critically at the wizard. For some reason, the other Death Eaters had begun to leave the area. “I wonder…”

Suddenly, the wizard was set on fire from behind and blasted to the side by a furious Ron. He stormed over to Harry, face gleaming with sweat, blood, and grime. Ginny wasn’t much better and was furiously wiping her face with her sleeve. She had a cut running across her eyebrow.

“You all right?” Harry asked, grabbing Ginny and looking her over.

“It’s just a cut,” Ginny said, still dabbing at it.

“It was a curse that missed her,” Ron corrected grimly. “Good thing you know your shields, Ginny.”

“Not well enough apparently,” Ginny muttered angrily.

“We tried to keep the others safe,” Ron told Harry blankly. “But it didn’t work. There were too many—” He was cut off by a strangled choke from Ginny. “Ginny?”

“ _Bloody hell_!” Ginny exclaimed, her brown eyes wide with shock.

Harry looked over her shoulder, joined by Severus and Ron, and their expressions hardened.

Bellatrix Lestrange, cool as you please, was walking down the cobblestone street towards them, a manic smile on her face.

“Didn’t Mum kill her?” Ron asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I saw her fall myself,” Harry confirmed, his grip tightening on his wand. He pushed Ginny behind him.

“Has little Harry come out to play?” Bellatrix asked in a sing-song voice. “Are you playing with the big boys now?” She curled her lips into an insane grin and held her wand up to her lips, licking the tip of it before slowly pointing it towards them. “Are you in over your head?”

Harry’s scar burst into furious tingling and he stiffened his entire body as a black shadow materialized by Bellatrix, solidifying into the figure of Lord Voldemort.

“Now, now, Bella,” he said in what could pass as a chastising voice but simply seemed sugary sweet. “We don’t play with our enemies.”

Occluding furiously to dampen his scar’s reaction, Harry’s eyes darted from one Dark wizard to the other.

Voldemort met his eyes, lips curling into a grin. “Like my birthday present, Harry? You should know…they like to play with fire.”

“Curses,” Severus whispered.

Voldemort ran his eyes over their small group and narrowed them when he saw Severus. “Severus…” His voice held no inflections but Harry could tell he was surprised.

“Yeah,” Harry said challengingly. “He’s not one of them. Surprised, are you?”

“Nonsense,” Voldemort hissed. “He is—”

“Not yours,” Harry said. “And hasn’t been for years.”

“Harry!” It was Hermione.

Harry didn’t look back to see his other friends join them. They all huddled in a semicircle, wands at the ready.

“What did you do to get this army up and running?” Harry asked Voldemort. “Sell your soul? Hack it into little pieces? Oh, right…I forgot.  _You already did that_.”

Voldemort’s eyes gleamed in what Harry guessed was anger but couldn’t be sure. “I hold power beyond your wildest dreams, Harry,” he whispered silkily, raising his wand into the air. “Would you care to find out?”

Just as the deadly curse bolted from the tip of the wand, Severus swung his arm in front of Harry and Transfigured a block of the stone from the street into an iron shield. The curse shattered it into pieces and Harry ducked the rubble, dodging to the side.

He quickly began hurling spells in Voldemort’s direction, clearly remembering the previous time when the other had merely been playing with him.

Bellatrix was dueling Ron and Ginny now, both of whom were furiously fighting for what seemed to be the kill. But could they even kill what was already dead?

Harry had to wonder about that as he found himself once again fighting with Voldemort for what seemed to be the sixth time if he’d counted correctly. Seventh if he included the time he’d been a baby.

If only he’d died then and stayed dead.

Harry hurled a silent  _Expulso_  in Voldemort’s direction.

Voldemort batted it aside like he was doing to all of Harry’s other spells. “Weak, Harry!”

“Move, Harry!” Severus snapped, suddenly blurring into action. He began to fire curses at Voldemort himself now, causing the Dark Lord to darken his face in anger.

Harry turned his head and saw that Hermione and Draco were now helping the Weasley siblings in their fight against Bellatrix. Somehow, the madwoman had been joined by two other Inferi that were giving the four fighters a run for their money.

Pulling his attention back to the fight, Harry found himself with an armful of Severus, who had been flung back by Voldemort’s forceful Concussion Hex.

“You can’t defeat me,” Voldemort sneered, drawing up to his full height. “You barely managed to last time!”

Harry narrowed his eyes and helped Severus up. “We need to get out of here,” he said in a low voice.

“Do you suggest we turn tail and run?” Severus said scathingly. “He’d cut us down!”

Thinking desperately, Harry remembered something he’d read in the library at Grimmauld House.  _It is a little known fact that wards can be broken through with brute strength…_

The Floo…he’d broken through  _that_  with nothing more than his magic, hadn’t he?

Harry threw a glance over at his friends, who still couldn’t manage to get the upper hand over the three Death Eaters, and then looked at Voldemort again. His eyes narrowed and he made his decision.

“On three!” he shouted, gripping Severus’s arm firmly.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Severus asked, his voice deadly calm.

“One…” Harry saw the confused looks his friends were shooting him and hoped they would listen. “…two…” He saw the deadly words form on Voldemort’s lips. “… _three_!”

With a desperate prayer, Harry turned on the spot and Disapparated, throwing all his magic into the anti-Apparition wards and tearing through them as quickly as he could. He felt the heat of the Killing Curse graze his robes just as the Disapparition took hold and he was gone.

The squeezing of the transportation felt worse this time and Harry had trouble keeping it together, well aware that Severus wouldn’t appreciate being splinched. With a loud  _pop!_ , Harry Apparated into the common room and fell flat on the floor, unable to support his weight with his leaden limbs.

He dimly registered the sound of four other pops and smiled when he realized they were all safe.

Ha. Take that, Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snape is still Snape, regardless of current friendships... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	10. The Locket and Sirius

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, and then we're caught up with the story on FF.

**September 8, 2001**

“Silently, Harry, _silently_!” Severus snapped out a yellow spell from his wand, which Harry just managed to block with a silent _Protego_.

Unfortunately, the next spell slipped through his defenses, and Harry was thrown backwards by the Concussion Hex. He rolled to his stomach and painfully climbed to his feet.

Severus held off on attacking. “You will have to learn how to act instinctively without thinking. How to fire spells off at a moment’s notice and no warning. How to achieve the element of surprise and _keep it_.”

“I already fight silently!” Harry argued, wiping his brow.

“You need to make _every_ spell silent. Make it a habit to cast everything nonverbally, regardless of whether it’s a simple cleaning charm or the shield that blocks the Killing Curse.”

Without warning, Severus’s wand snapped in a circle, ejecting a bright white light that Harry dove to the side to avoid. It collided against the wall and dissipated harmlessly.

“React reflexively to save your life,” Severus continued. “Have a spell on your lips and ready to cast at a moment’s notice.”

“Doesn’t that mean accidentally hitting a friend if they startle me?”

“Better you hit a friend than you find yourself at the mercy of an enemy’s wand because you were too lax,” Severus said darkly. “At the moment, Harry, we have not reached that point. However, I want you thinking in such terms, as it will help you against the Dark Lord. Against him, spells that can be fired in a split-second and silently will grant you the edge.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something else when his teacher struck again. This time he really was taken completely off guard and was hit in the chest with _Rictumsempra_. He was blown backwards as the door to the Room of Requirement opened.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at the silently suffering Harry at her feet. “Bill Weasley has arrived, Severus. Perhaps if you would release Harry?”

Severus sighed and cast a _Finite_. Harry uncurled from his position and stood, abashed.

“We will continue working on it,” Severus said.

Nodding, Harry took the moment to flee towards the Headmistress’s office, where Bill was waiting.

They’d just started with dueling lessons yesterday after Harry had finally recovered from the aftereffects of Diagon Alley, and Severus was already preaching about advanced skills only the most veteran Aurors possessed. Aurors that included the likes of Alastor Moody. He didn’t want to become that paranoid. Hell, he didn’t even think _Severus_ was that paranoid!

“Persian,” Harry said to the gargoyle.

Two minutes later, Harry was inside the office and seated before Bill Weasley.

“Tea?” the Weasley offered, the scars from Fenrir Greyback’s attack contrasting sharply in the light of the fireplace. “Minerva left it.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bill had his own cup. “It was a nightmare getting back into England. They’re absolutely paranoid about everything now…since the massacre.”

The massacre at Diagon Alley that had finally told the Wizarding World once again that Voldemort was back. There had been five survivors in total, including Ron and Ginny.

Harry shivered as he remembered that awful day. “At least they’re aware now.”

“So they are.” Bill put his tea cup down. “Admirable job, Harry. Breaking through wards like that with pure brute force isn’t something seen often. The wizard or witch who tries it normally—”

“Dies, I know,” Harry said. “I didn’t really plan on it to be honest. It just happened. I’m glad it did.”

“Yes, well…can’t have you breaking through wards like that again and then dying on us, now can we?” Bill grinned humorlessly. “As the Order of the Phoenix’s foremost ward expert, I’m going to be teaching you.”

“I thought you were a curse breaker?”

“You’ll find that curses and wards are remarkably similar.”

Harry met Bill’s eyes. “So you’ll teach me how to break through wards?”

“And how to make them. Considering your talent, I think you’ll pick this up relatively quickly.”

Bill ran a hand through his hair. “First, tell me how it felt to break through that ward.”

Harry blinked slowly and looked into his tea. “Well…tiring for one thing. I felt the block and…hammered through it.”

“Amateur ward breakers are noted for that,” Bill said. “What you want to look for is the ward’s weak spot, which will be a tiny hole where the ward was put up. The weaker the ward, the more noticeable the hole. The strongest have holes that are less than a millimeter large. Wards like those at Hogwarts and Gringotts are layered over so many times with holes in different locations that it’s nigh impossible to break through them. It would require an expert team of ward breakers and unlimited patience to break through them.”

Bill waved his wand over his wand tea cup. “First lesson… Find the weak spot of this ward.”

Harry looked at the cup and felt for the magic surrounding it. It was a large hole directly above the top. “It’s on the top, over the tea.”

“How about this?”

Harry looked at the ward surrounding the tea pot. “Merlin, Bill, that one’s even bigger.”

Bill shrugged. “Wards are one of those things you can’t do halfway. You have to be an expert at nonverbal magic to cast good wards. I’m not so my wards are weak. Try this.” Bill muttered something under his breath and cast a ward over the entire tea set.

Harry reached out with his own wand and cautiously poked the magic wrapped around the set. It was much more tightly bound than before, but the hole was still large to his senses. “About five centimeters across, directly by your cup.”

Bill smiled. “Well, Harry…looks like it will be a pleasure working with you.”

Harry looked into Bill’s eyes, catching glimpses of silvery hair going up in flames and a loud explosion. He swallowed and nodded.

Anything that would give him an edge over the bastard.

* * *

**November 7, 1994**  


That Saturday was a Hogsmeade weekend and the same day Harry was planning on getting the locket with Severus. As it would be suspicious if he begged off a Hogsmeade visit after only receiving permission at the end of third year, Harry pretended to be ill enough to warrant a visit to Poppy.

After much convincing, Ron and Hermione headed out to have fun and bring back a bag of sweets for their “ill” friend. Though Harry had promised to go to the Hospital Wing, he had no intentions of doing so as he was as fit as a fiddle. Instead, he pulled on his Invisibility Cloak and headed to the gates, where Severus met him.

“Anyone asks, I was in the Hospital Wing,” Harry said, pulling off his cloak.

“Do I look like your keeper?”

 “No. Just my professor.” Harry shot the disgruntled man a grin and took his arm, Disapparating both of them.

They arrived with a crack on the threshold of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. After a quick glance, Harry determined no one had seen, and that while not yet under the Fidelius, the house was hidden under various charms to disguise it from Muggles.

“It’s locked,” Harry remarked, prodding the door with his wand, “but nothing too difficult.”

After another prod, the lock clicked open and the two wizards stepped into a dark, smelly, and dusty home that hadn’t seen light in what seemed to be decades.

Harry illuminated his wand as Severus closed the door. “Ugh… So this is what Sirius went back to after fourth year? It must’ve taken ages to get it into a somewhat livable state.”

Severus waved a hand in front of his face, his own wand lit. “You’d better know what you’re doing, Potter.”

“Watch your step,” Harry warned, moving down the hall. “When I first came there were still all sorts of creatures and Dark objects here and that was after months of cleaning. It’s undoubtedly far worse now.”

“Marvelous.”

The two approached the area where Walburga Black’s portrait hung, and Harry was surprised to find it uncovered. As the wand lights hit it, the occupant promptly started shrieking upon seeing them.

“DEFILING THE HOUSE OF MY FOREFATHERS—” she was cut off with an unholy shriek as Harry reflexively incinerated her portrait, quickly dousing it right afterward.

Severus’s own wand was ready for an attack, though he hadn’t done anything. “What was _that_ , Potter?”

“Walburga Black, Sirius’s beloved mother. She was covered with a curtain in my time.” Harry studied the demolished portrait with interest. “I wonder why no one thought of this method before.”

An old creaky voice interrupted the two. “Who’s here? Who disturbs Kreacher and his mistress?”

Harry and Severus glanced at each other and extinguished their wands. But the sudden darkness was broken by a blinding white light held by a decrepit and filthy house-elf.

Kreacher took one look at the two dazzled wizards and howled in fury, producing a powerful magical blast that blew them down the stairs.

Harry cast a Cushioning Charm under them, softening their fall.

When he saw Kreacher prepare a potentially lethal attack, he shouted out of habit and desperation, “Kreacher, STOP!”

For a split-second, he thought that it was an absolutely inane move since he wasn’t Kreacher’s master at the moment. Thus, he was absolutely stunned when the lethal attack dissipated into nothing a second after his command.

Shaking in shock, he and Severus climbed to their feet, warily watching the house-elf.

“What is this magic?” Kreacher muttered, looking down at them. “Kreacher feels compelled…compelled to obey the young one…”

“What does he mean, Potter?” Severus asked, lighting his wand again.

“He was the other elf in those memories I showed you,” Harry whispered. “After Sirius died, I inherited him. But Sirius isn’t dead yet.”

“And yet you are his master.”

Harry nodded, slowly moving up the stairs again. “Kreacher, my name is Harry Potter. This is my friend Severus Snape.”

“Harry Potter? The boy who defeated the Dark Lord?” Kreacher watched Harry warily, backing up as Harry came closer.

“Yes.” Harry continued until he was on the same floor as the elf. “And you…you’re Regulus Black’s elf.”

Kreacher seemed surprised. “Yes… Kreacher is Master Regulus’s…”

“Regulus?” Severus asked from behind Harry.

“He gave you a locket, didn’t he?” Harry continued, watching Kreacher huddle against the wall. His light was fading, and Harry lit his wand so he could continue to see without the aid of Severus’s light. “He told you to destroy it…but you can’t.”

“Yes…” Kreacher twisted his fingers. “No matter what Kreacher did, the locket would not open… Kreacher has failed Master Regulus!”

Harry ignored Severus moving to his side, instead saying calmly, “That’s why we’re here, Kreacher.”

Kreacher stared at the two. “Here?”

“We need to destroy that locket,” Harry said, “and finish what Regulus started. Will you get it?”

Kreacher stared at Harry for a long moment, seemingly weighing his trustworthiness, before he popped away as only a house-elf could.

“Is this wise?” Severus asked, only to have Kreacher pop back with the golden locket in hand.

Harry’s scar tingled numbly as he bent to take it. “Thank you, Kreacher.” To Severus he said, “You saw what happened last time. We can trust him.”

Kreacher seemed even more surprised at this expression of trust than he had been at Harry knowing about the locket.

Harry let the locket hover in midair before him, not willing to touch it after what had happened last time with the vile thing. “We’ll go into Regulus’s room to destroy this, I think. It’s only right.”

Eagerly, Kreacher led the two to Regulus’s room, cleaning the way as he did and muttering excitedly under his breath.

When they entered, Harry carefully cleared a small area and warded it to prevent damage to the surrounding area. He dropped the locket to the center and drew out the basilisk fang.

Kreacher, staring at the locket with a desperate expression, was shocked when presented with the fang.

“It’s only right,” Harry said quietly. “He asked you to do it. Listen: I’m going to tell the locket to open. When it does, stab it _immediately._ Something’s going to happen, and I need you to ignore it. I’m probably going to pass out. When I do, take us to Hogwarts – you know where it is.”

“Potter—”

“Ask for Dobby and ask him about the Room of Requirement.” Harry thought for a few seconds, not able to remember whether Dobby knew of it yet. “Seventh floor by the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy teaching some trolls how to do ballet. Pace past the wall three times thinking of what you need. But _find Dobby_. Do you understand?”

“Kreacher understands and Kreacher will do what Master wishes…”

Harry nodded. “Good. Severus, step back.” Sure that his friend had stepped back enough to be safe from any particular backlash, Harry looked at the locket and hissed, “ ** _Open._** ”

The locket fell open with a click, revealing a piercing blue eye that only had time to widen before Kreacher stabbed it.

A horrible shriek pierced Harry’s head in tandem with the spike of numb tingling. Unable to stop the darkness from encroaching on him, he fell back into secure arms.

* * *

When Harry woke up, it was to another Pepperup Potion being poured down his throat. Once the potion had cleared his airways, Harry forced his eyes open, only to find himself staring into twin green pools.

Dazed and startled, Harry made to spring away but fell off the bed with a thud. His wand was in hand before he sensed Severus and remembered what had happened.

A high-pitched voice was speaking rapidly. “Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter! I is not mean to startle you!”

Harry pushed himself back to his feet to see Severus smirking at him in amusement and Kreacher staring disdainfully at Dobby.

“It’s all right, Dobby,” Harry said, shooting Severus a glare. “I’d like to see _you_ do any better when you have to be prepared for a fight every five seconds. In fact, if I remember correctly, you didn’t!”

“Be that as it may, Potter, it is still amusing to see you fall out of bed so ungracefully.”

Harry rolled his eyes and gave him up for a lost cause. “Fine.” He looked down at the eager house-elf. “How are you, Dobby?”

Dobby shook in his eagerness. “Dobby is very well, sir! Dobby is now working in the kitchens! I is getting _paid_ for my work!”

Ignoring Severus’s incredulous stare, Harry smiled happily at the house-elf. “Brilliant, Dobby. That’s really great.” He looked at Kreacher. “Good work, Kreacher. The locket – oh.” Kreacher had pulled it out of his dirty pillow case and handed it over. Harry took it delicately. “Well, it’s definitely not a Horcrux anymore.”

Kreacher gave a disgusted sneer and Dobby shivered as Harry uttered the word.

“Horcrux?” Dobby whispered. “That is Dark magic, Harry Potter…very Dark.”

“It’s Tom’s – or at least it _was_ his. Kreacher destroyed it.” Harry found that except for the mangled inside, the locket was otherwise intact. He forced it closed and welded it shut with a muttered word and a finger. Then he handed it to Kreacher. “It’s yours now. Regulus would have wanted you to have it.”

Kreacher took the offered artifact as if it was the most precious thing in the world. “Thank you, Master,” he croaked. “Thank you.”

“You do realize you just gave an artifact belonging to one of Hogwarts’ founders to a house-elf who is unable to keep himself clean?” Severus asked dryly.

“Ah, yes. Thanks for the reminder, Severus.” Harry knelt down in front of the elderly house-elf. “Kreacher…I’m going to ask you to do several things, all right?”

“What Master wishes Kreacher shall do,” Kreacher said.

“First, get yourself cleaned up. I won’t have you die because you won’t keep yourself clean. Get rid of that pillowcase. Have Dobby give you something and _don’t_ think it means I’m giving you clothes. When you’re done with that, go back to Grimmauld Place and start cleaning up there. Do what you like with the valuable artifacts, but make it safe for us to come next time.”

Kreacher bowed low. “Kreacher shall do it, Master.”

“Good. You’ll come when I call?” When Kreacher confirmed it, Harry nodded once. “All right. You can get started then. Dobby, I’ll be down to see you soon.”

“Master Harry Potter is such a kind wizard!” Dobby exclaimed, nodding frantically. “Dobby shall help Harry Potter’s elf!” Without another word, Dobby exuberantly grabbed Kreacher and disappeared with a pop.

There was silence for a moment before Severus drawled, “Nauseating, Potter.”

Harry shrugged. “I freed Dobby from Lucius back in second year, but you already saw that. You know Kreacher’s story as well…” He frowned. “I didn’t expect that at all. First the Elder Wand and now this…”

Severus seemed curious at the mention of the wand. “The wand?”

Harry looked at his watch, widening his eyes in alarm upon seeing that it was already 12:30 at night. “You could have told me it was so late!”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Ron told me earlier that Hagrid has something to show me and to meet him at twelve. Then I’ve got a meeting with Sirius at one. He’ll be fire calling.”

“You weren’t planning on attending, were you?”

“With Hagrid? No.” Harry made sure he still had his Invisibility Cloak on. “I can make up an excuse with him. But there’s no excuse for missing a chat with _Sirius_. That would make them suspicious.”

“Do have a good talk with the mutt,” Severus said, sounding bored.

Already at the door of the Room of Requirements, Harry eyed his friend knowingly. “There’s no shame in wanting to talk to the dead, Severus. I’ve wanted to do it for years.”

Severus’s mouth fell open but Harry left before he could say anything, making himself invisible as he did.

* * *

It was ten before one when Harry deemed it wise enough to enter the common room. When he did, it instantly alerted his two friends, who had been huddled in front of the fire.

“Harry!” Hermione jumped up, fully intending on rushing over to him, but stopping when Harry motioned for her to stay.

“How was it?” Ron asked anxiously.

Harry walked quickly over to them, pitching his voice appropriately. “ _Dragons_! The first task deals with _dragons_! And we have to steal something from them!”

Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth in shock while Ron inhaled sharply.

“Blimey, Harry,” Ron said shakily. “That’s no joke… Charlie’s covered with burns from working with them and you’re actually going to have to _steal_ from one?”

“I know,” Harry said grimly, darting a glance towards the fire. “Should I tell him?”

“Shouldn’t you, Harry?” Hermione said reprovingly. “He should know!”

“What’s he going to do other than worry?” Harry knew full well what he would do – hide in caves and live off rats.

“I’d tell him, Harry,” Ron said. “From what Dad’s told me, he was a really good wizard. I mean, that was in warning to how dangerous he is and all after what happened last year, but it still counts for something, right? Maybe he can give you some advice on what to do.”

“Do you feel better?” Hermione asked before Harry could say anything else. “Ron and I went up to the Hospital Wing, but you weren’t there.”

‘ _Did they talk with Poppy?_ ’ Harry hoped they hadn’t because otherwise his cover story would be blown to bits. “Madame Pomfrey fixed me in a jiffy. She said something about me not eating enough”—Hermione tittered—“and so I decided to go down to the kitchens. You won’t believe who I met down there!”

“Who?” Ron promptly said.

“Dobby! He’s actually working here!” Harry didn’t have to fake his excitement. “And you know what else? Winky’s working here, too! She’s kind of depressed and all, but she has a home.”

“How nice!” Hermione said, beaming. “It’s absolutely horrid what Mr. Crouch did to her, but at least she’s safe! I was so worried.”

“She’s poring through that book,” Ron informed Harry, “and taking notes like a madman.”

“Mad _woman_ , Ron,” Hermione said crossly, though Harry couldn’t tell if it was because Ron had called her a man or because he was complaining about her studious nature.

The conversation broke off when the fireplace gave a particularly loud crackle that made Harry jump and Ron and Hermione turn to look at the flames.

In a moment, Sirius’s head appeared in the flames.

Since this was the first time he’d seen his godfather in years, Harry had no trouble bringing forth a genuine smile. “Sirius!”

Sirius gave Harry his own smile. He looked clean shaven and all around much happier than he’d ever been in Harry’s fifth year. “Harry…it’s good to see you. And you, too, Ron, Hermione.”

“Everyone’s in bed,” Harry said. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Sirius said. “I can’t stay long. I’ve broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about.”

“He has to face dragons!” Ron blurted out.

Sirius’s face lost its relatively calm expression to morph into something worried. “ _Dragons_? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Harry said. “I saw them myself earlier this evening. Maxime and Karkaroff were also there. I mean, Karkaroff snuck out and Maxime was shown the dragons by Hagrid ’cause he fancies her but the other champions will know by tomorrow.”

“All right… Dragons we can deal with, but first I need to say something.”

“What?” Hermione asked.

“Karkaroff,” Sirius said. “He was a Death Eater. You know what they are, right?”

“Yeah, we do,” Harry said. “I think I read something about Karkaroff striking a deal with the Ministry, didn’t he?”

“That’s right,” Sirius confirmed. “He’s not very popular in Azkaban because of that. That’s probably the reason Dumbledore wanted an Auror at Hogwarts – to keep an eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place.”

“He’s the Headmaster of Durmstrang!” Hermione said. “Why would they let a Death Eater teach there, let alone become headmaster?”

“It’s the school known for the Dark Arts,” Sirius said. “Harry, watch out for the Durmstrang champion. There’s no telling what he’ll do.”

“I’ll steer clear of Karkaroff and Krum,” Harry said.

“Who do you think put Harry’s name in the goblet?” Hermione asked.

Sirius frowned. “I don’t know. I’d like to say Karkaroff but he’s a bloody coward if there ever was one. He wouldn’t have the guts to pull off something like this. No…it was someone Dark and someone that must be lurking under the radar. The fact that it happened right under Dumbledore’s nose is very troubling.”

“Voldemort waltzed around on the back of Quirrell’s head for a whole year without him noticing anything,” Harry offered. “I find it hard to believe he’d let that happen if he knew considering it’s a school of children Voldemort was in.”

“Yes.” Sirius seemed rather fidgety, and Harry knew he couldn’t stay much longer.

“What about the dragons?” Ron demanded.  “Harry has to steal something from them!”

“There is a way to deal with them. Don’t bother trying a Stunning Spell – they’re too strong for a single wizard.”

“I wasn’t going to,” Harry said. “I was more planning on asking the dragon nicely and see if she’ll let me close enough to take it.”

“Harry!” Hermione scolded. “It’s not funny!”

“Maybe not, but I’d rather not start panicking about it. At least I _know_ , right? What if I didn’t? I’d be going out there with not a clue—”

“Harry’s right, Hermione,” Sirius interrupted. “All right, I can’t stay much longer. Harry, try the Conjunctivitis Curse. Target the eyes as that’s a weak spot.”

“Wouldn’t that make the dragon really, really mad?” Harry asked. “I don’t exactly fancy going up against a blind and angry dragon that might squash me.”

“Do you have any ideas then, Harry?”

“One, I think…” Harry made sure to sound unsure. “I’ve heard of something called the Summoning Charm…”

Hermione brightened. “So have I! Were you planning on summoning on whatever it is you need to steal?”

“There’re bound to be anti-Summoning wards on whatever it is,” Sirius disagreed. “A good idea, Harry, but your best bet is probably the Conjunctivitis Curse. There’s a book in the library if your Defense one doesn’t have it.”

“I think I’ve seen it,” Hermione was muttering now. “Have to ask McGonagall for a classroom to practice…”

Harry made a little note to seem hopelessly inept at the curse. He knew from Krum’s turn that the dragon would squash several eggs once blinded and he didn’t fancy losing points. Furthermore, he was itching to test his flying skills against a dragon once more.

“Is that it then, Sirius?” he asked. “We’ll look into that curse and I’ll keep you posted on what else is happening.”

Sirius nodded. “That’d be it, Harry. Good night and stay safe. Also, don’t use Hedwig every time. As a snowy owl, she stands out. I’ll be closer to Hogwarts so my replies won’t take as long.”

“Will do,” Harry said. “Good night—” He was now speaking to an empty fireplace grate.

“Oh, brilliant!” Hermione murmured. “I’m really glad you talked with him, Harry.”

Harry was still staring into the grate, remembering his godfather falling through the veil, a surprised look on his face. “Yeah…so am I.”

* * *

When Harry woke that Sunday morning, it was with the sudden clarity that came after long hours of hard thinking with absolutely no solution. His head swimming with this new theory, he cursed the fact that he had been so stupid. He was no Hermione, but that didn’t mean he could overlook something so ridiculously _obvious_!

‘ _I brought my soul **and** my magic back with me when I fell through that veil. I supplanted everything over that of my fourteen-year-old self, which was why the Horcrux is gone since my older soul didn’t have it. And since my magic is from the future, Kreacher is still bound to me, as is the Elder Wand. Which means…_ ’ Harry sat up in bed, rubbing his forehead furiously. ‘ _…the wand isn’t going to be working for Dumbledore anymore._ ’

Mindful of this new fact that would leave Dumbledore significantly more vulnerable at the hands of Voldemort, Harry silently climbed out of bed and prepared himself for the day. ‘ _And if that is actually the case…then I have another way of getting in and out of Hogwarts easily. But that should be a last resort because it’ll alert Dumbledore._ ’

Harry entered the common room, noting that it was empty except for Neville.

“Morning, Harry,” the round-faced boy said. He was doing some homework that Harry suspected was due the next day.

“Morning, Neville,” Harry said. “If Ron and Hermione ask where I am, let them know I’m in the library, all right? I’m doing research.”

“I’ll do that.” Neville nodded and returned to his homework.

Climbing through the portrait, Harry considered the new possibility that had just opened to him. ‘ _Since I really can’t do anything about it without alerting Dumbledore, this is going to take some planning. It’ll probably just be a ‘let’s hope it works’ thing…_ ’

He was just walking by a suit of armor stationed in an alcove when he was abruptly seized and dragged behind the suit into the alcove. Before the unknown person could react, Harry had his wand jabbed into the throat, the tip flaring warmth.

“Potter! It’s me!” It was Draco.

Sighing, Harry let his wand drop, sheathing it. “Christ, Draco. Don’t do that!”

Draco rubbed his throat, glaring at Harry. “What did you do that for?”

“You’re the one dragging me into dark corners without warning. What did _you_ think would happen?”

Draco frowned, acknowledging the point. “Fine.” He reached into his robes and Harry stiffened. But all Draco pulled out was a familiar vial, shoving it into Harry’s hand. “Here.”

Harry dropped it into his own pocket. “You saw them then?”

Draco glowered, though it didn’t have the same menace it usually did. “I’m a Slytherin, Potter, not a liar. Of course I did.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, not impressed. “And?”

Draco folded his arms across his chest defensively. “You…actually saw all that? That actually _happened_?”

“Yes.” Harry smiled mirthlessly. “Puts a damper on things, doesn’t it?”

“I didn’t know,” Draco muttered.

“It wasn’t a secret, Draco. The evidence was pretty clear after the first war that Voldemort”—Draco winced—“wasn’t kind to anyone, even his followers.”

“But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst…was seeing what he’d do to those people. What he’d do for _fun_.”

“Is that no different from what you condone?” Harry said coldly.

“No, Potter! Merlin, never like _that_!” Draco looked ashen. “I’ll admit, I still don’t think Mud-Muggle-borns should be part of our world but I wouldn’t condone something as vile as what you saw.”

“I understand your point of view,” Harry said, “but also understand that the Muggle-borns don’t have any better idea. They’re not familiar with this world and there’s nothing akin to Wizarding Culture being offered here that would help them understand. _I’m_ a half-blood and have been in this world for three years; I _still_ don’t understand everything!”        

Draco shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “Either way, Potter, you were right when you said something was going to happen. You’re in the tournament and if that doesn’t spell bad news I don’t know what does.”

“I know,” Harry agreed quietly.

Draco was pale in the dark light. “Is he coming back then?”

“Like I said before, I don’t know. I’ve…only heard whispers.”

Draco swallowed. “Look, Potter…if you need help or something, let me know.”

Harry smiled at him, glad that his friend, who was not the same person he’d been when coming to him originally, had made this gesture, knowing how much it cost the Slytherin, as they always expected payment in kind. For Draco, the fact that Harry had given him this information could be considered a favor, and he was now offering to return it. “Thanks, Draco. I’ll let you know if I do.”

Draco heaved a shaky sigh. “Good. Now go do whatever you were going to do. I’m going to read a nice Potions book.”

* * *

The next day on the way to Charms, Harry found himself staring after Cedric, who was headed to Transfigurations. The Hufflepuff wouldn’t have a clue about the dragons, and Harry had been the one to tell him last time. Since no one else would tell Cedric this time, he would have to do it again.

“Okay, Harry?” Ron asked, seeing his friend linger.

“Yeah…” Harry turned to head in Cedric’s direction. “Go on to Charms, all right? I’ll be five minutes. I just have to tell Cedric something.”

“Class _starts_ in five minutes…” Hermione said anxiously.

“I’ll make it. Just go on.”

Once Ron and Hermione left, Harry cast a strong Compulsion Charm on Cedric’s friends that made them wander off. Then he quickly cast _Muffliato_ and ran up to Cedric.

“I need to talk,” he said in answer to the older boy’s questioning look.

“Yeah?”

“The first task’s dragons,” Harry said without any preamble.

Cedric turned ashen. “ _Dragons_? Are you sure?”

“Positive. I saw them myself. We have to steal something from them, I think.”

“Merlin… _dragons_ …” Cedric shook his head before appraising Harry skeptically. “Why are you telling me this?”

Harry grinned. “The others know since Maxime and Karkaroff were there, too. You’re the only one. ’Sides, we’re both from Hogwarts, aren’t we? We have to stick together.”

Upon hearing that, Cedric looked embarrassed. “About that… I’m really sorry about the badges. I’ve tried to tell them not to wear it—”

Harry waved it off. “It’s all right. Personally, I find it funny. Hermione thinks the school should show more unity but as long as they’re not hexing my back every five seconds, I’m golden.”

Cedric seemed relieved. “Oh, great… And thanks for telling me.”

“No problem. Now, I’ve got to go to Charms and I know you’ve got Transfigurations.” Harry took down the _Muffliato_ spell and waved Cedric goodbye before dashing off. He had no desire to meet Crouch again and talk with him. Being in the same classroom as the man was bad enough, but being _alone_ with him? Merlin, he’d be lucky if he didn’t curse the man across the room.

Harry slid into his seat just as the bell rang. Filius stood up on his books and began lecturing the class on Banishing Charms, which they would be practicing soon but not in this particular class.

“What’d you have to see Cedric for?” Ron asked, leaning over. Hermione was also curious.

“Last weekend,” Harry said in way of explanation. “He didn’t know.”

Ron looked aggrieved. “Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Harvey Porter, the guy who collects tickets for the Hogwarts Express,” Harry said, unable to resist the joke.

Ron and Hermione stared at him, not getting it.

Harry sighed. “I’m not actually _Sirius_ , you know… That’s my godfather.”

Hermione seemed rather embarrassed now that she understood the joke. “That’s not exactly a very good joke, Harry.”

“It gets old,” Harry admitted. “But, yeah, I’m serious about it. He’s the only one who didn’t have a clue about the dragons. The other champions did. Maxime and Karkaroff wouldn’t have snuck out to see those dragons if they _didn’t_ plan on telling their champions. It’s an advantage and in this game, _any_ advantage is good.”

Hermione inspected Harry thoughtfully. “Besides, Ron,” she said finally, “they’re both from Hogwarts. _I_ personally think it’s marvelous what Harry did.” Then she turned back to the front of the class, fully fixated on the lecture Filius was giving.

* * *

Potions class that day was uneventful without any exploding cauldrons. Hermione had done her best to help Neville through the tricky concoction they were brewing without Severus noticing. Although Harry knew Severus had noticed, Severus apparently had decided to have a peaceful lesson for once and left Neville alone.

That notion was blown out of the water as Harry added the beetle juice to his almost finished potion.

Severus walked by his cauldron and stopped abruptly, scowling down at the floor and then at Harry. “Five points from Gryffindor, Potter, for obstructing the walkway with your obnoxious bag.”

Harry glanced down to see that his “obnoxious” bag was only sticking out less than halfway into the aisle, with more than enough walking space. “Sorry, Professor.”

“See that you move it.” Severus swept past him, and Harry hooked his foot through the strap of his bag and drew it completely under his worktable.

Ron hashed at his beetles viciously, spraying the juice everywhere. “Greasy git!” he muttered angrily. “Your bag wasn’t even in the way!”

“He’s done worse,” Harry said, stirring counterclockwise three times before seeing his potion turn a nice silver color. It was done perfectly.

“Oh sod it,” Ron moaned, glancing from his cauldron to Harry’s. His was a bubbling mess of noxious green.

“You added the leeches too early,” Harry commented. “I don’t think you can salvage it anymore.”

Grumbling, Ron dumped his beetle juice into his ruined potion, turning what had been a noxious green juice to a poisonous brown sludge that fouled the air. Harry hastily got rid of it before it could poison everyone in the classroom.

Later that night, Harry went through his bag to find the object Severus had deposited in it.

The Resurrection Stone had been wrapped in a lily.

* * *

**August 30, 2002**  


“Bloody Ministry,” Harry muttered, tugging at his itchy green robes.

“Look on the bright side, mate,” Ron said brightly, wearing turquoise robes. “At least they believe us now!”

“And it only took Diagon Alley,” Harry said darkly, referring to the Massacre of Diagon Alley last year.

“This day was a long time in coming, Harry,” Hermione said. She wore robes of a dark red. “You’ve known for months already that you would need to do this.”

“I’m not the Ministry’s bloody poster boy,” Harry muttered, disgruntled.

“You’re still good morale,” Ron offered. “If you’re here at the Hogwarts Express two days before term is due to start, that should get people more confident. Hogwarts is still one of the safest places around in Britain.”

“Besides,” Hermione murmured, “it’s still too dangerous to travel.”

“Bill said it was a nightmare to get back to South America, but he arrived safely,” Ron said. “The goblins seemed right happy to see him, he said.”

Harry snorted, finding it difficult to believe that goblins would ever be happy about anything. They didn’t even get that excited over gold!

Folding his arms across his chest, Harry looked out over the platform of King’s Cross Station, unable to believe how many had shown up simply because he was there. No matter how conceited that sounded, it was the truth.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, nodded at Harry as he walked by and took his place at the podium in front of the train. The guard of Aurors he normally possessed wasn’t sticking to him like leeches this time as he had them stationed around the platform. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were considered his unofficial guards for the moment.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kingsley called, using _Sonorus_ , “I thank you for coming today.” He had everyone’s attention by now. “These are dark times once again, I will not deny, but we must hold onto our hope.”

All eyes flickered to Harry, who kept his face stoic.

“Our children,” Kingsley continued, “are our most precious resource. They must be protected, cherished…and must continue to hold onto our magical heritage. Hogwarts, with its fine-standing reputation, is the best place to do this. Not only is it secured, but it also remains a beacon of hope. As long as it stands, our hope will prevail!”

The audience burst into applause, though the trio followed more reluctantly.

“I don’t feel good about this,” Harry said in a low voice.

“Your scar?” Hermione asked, looking alarmed.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “But a feeling…”

Sharing wary looks, Ron and Hermione moved closer to Harry.

The applause was dying down and Kingsley moved to speak again. “Now—”

There was a loud explosion. With a thundering crash, the ceiling caved in at the far end, causing mass panic.

Gritting his teeth, Harry felt his scar flare into numb tingling. “It’s Voldemort.”

“Here? Blimey, he’s getting bold!” Ron muttered, flicking his wand out.

“Everyone, calm down!” Kingsley was shouting over the din. “We have—”

Harry saw a shadowy figure strike and quickly cast a shield between it and the Minister. Then he cast a loud “ _Finite_!” as his verbalized spells held more power than his silent ones.

The spell struck the Disillusioned figure to reveal the form of Voldemort, which sent the crowd into even more panic than before if it was possible. They began Disapparating, but after the first few pops anti-Apparition wards snapped into place.

Harry scanned the surroundings and sensed the undead Death Eaters lurking in the shadows. Making a quick hand signal to his friends, they nodded and melted into nothingness, having Disillusioned themselves.

“Voldemort,” Kingsley called calmly, drawing Harry’s eyes to him. “I’m honored…you would kill me yourself?”

Voldemort’s snakelike red eyes glittered. “Don’t flatter yourself, Shacklebolt. You’re the Minister…you hold my rightful place.”

“You’re no Minister, Voldemort,” Kingsley said. “What makes you think you ever would be?”

“This.” Voldemort pointed his wand at the black Minister. “ _Avada_ —”

Harry spun into action before the curse even left the Dark Lord’s lips. He summoned a large piece of rubble to block the deadly green light and jumped in front of Kingsley as the block shattered.

“Harry, you—”

“ _Portus_ ,” Harry muttered, tapping a piece of rubble. He flung it at the gobsmacked Minister just as he tore at the wards to allow the magic; the dark-skinned man was instantly Portkeyed away.

When Voldemort saw that his target had managed to escape, he snarled and moved to attack. “Learnt some new spells, Harry?”

“No more than you,” Harry said, blocking the first curse.

‘ _Where are the bloody Aurors?_ ’ Harry wondered, moving through spells faster than one could blink.

It was a dance of vibrant colors and explosions, yet Harry sensed that Voldemort was once again toying with him. He was trying to make Harry believe that he actually stood a chance at winning.

‘ _I don’t,_ ’ Harry thought, raising a hasty shield to block a nasty Dark curse that would spill his entrails out onto the station floor. ‘ _Not now. But he’s going to regret this._ ’

In a split-second, Harry formed his plan. With a snap of his wrist, his wand sent vibrant firecrackers into the air. The sparkles momentarily blinded Voldemort, and Harry used the opportunity to tear at the wards so the people could Disapparate. The hole Bill had lectured him about was tiny, far tinier than the anti-Portkey wards he’d taken down earlier that the Ministry had put up, but he still grabbed at it, tearing it wide open.

The fighting and fleeing wizards and witches felt the change and took the opportunity to flee, dozens of pops filling the air.

“Nice job!” Harry shouted, pretending he hadn’t just undone Voldemort’s wards. “Get out of here!”

“I don’t think so, Harry!” Voldemort howled, throwing a ball of pure crackling magic at the young wizard.

Harry was too slow to dodge and the ball hit him in the chest, blowing him back across the station. It would have been fatal if he hadn’t reflexively erected a shield that absorbed some of the damage.

As it was, he hit the wall hard and fell to the ground, gasping for air. A strange noise rung in his ears; dimly, he sensed the anti-Apparition wards being put up again.

‘ _Get…up…_ ’ Harry could faintly hear Voldemort cackling madly. But he could also feel the magic saturating the air around him.

“ _Die_ , Harry!”

‘ _Not today!_ ’ Harry seized hold of the magic around him and threw back at Voldemort the same attack he’d hit Harry with. His wand flared with warmth, humming in his hand, and he hoped the attack would hit even though he was still lying on the ground on his stomach.

Although Harry couldn’t see the other wizard’s reaction as his head had fallen back to the ground, Voldemort’s shriek of anguish was proof enough that his attack had hit the mark. The sound ringing like music in his ears, Harry turned in his prone position, pulled at the wards, and Disapparated.

He tumbled to the ground of the Hospital Wing with a pained gasp, hearing startled exclamations all around him.

“Harry!”

Hermione knelt over him. “Oh, Harry…if we’d known you weren’t right behind us we wouldn’t have Disapparated! The firecrackers—”

“Out of the way, Ms. Granger!” Poppy bundled into view.

Harry found that words not of his own conscious volition were rising to his lips, hearing a faint voice whisper in his ears. “The wand…”

“Harry?”

“The Elder Wand…”


	11. The First Task – Take Two

**September 1, 2002**

It was a rather warm and balmy night for September. Usually these days were rainy, thundering, and absolutely miserable. Tonight, though, the night was clear and all the stars could be seen.

On the main coast Hogwarts stood strong and tall, its lights gleaming warmly as the feast celebrating the start of a new term went on. The lake around it was still and quiet, reflecting both Hogwarts and the starry night sky.

There was a small boat drifting on the lake to the tomb of Albus Dumbledore, also the location for the Elder Wand after Harry had stored it there. Despite the size of the boat, Harry, Severus, Ron, and Hermione had all managed to fit inside it.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Hermione murmured, trailing her fingers through the water.

“A beautiful night to desecrate a tomb you mean?” Ron asked.

“Ron!”

“He’s right, though,” Harry said quietly, his eyes fixed on the small island; the white tomb gleamed in the moonlight. “We _are_ desecrating his tomb. It hardly matters _why_.”

“He would understand, Harry,” Severus said softly. “He never anticipated such a drastic turn of events.”

“But that’s the point,” Harry said bitterly. “He anticipated almost everything else but this – this _completely_ escaped his notice? The whole time it was ‘Harry, destroy the Horcruxes and he’ll be mortal once more’ and so I did but it didn’t do a _bloody_ thing.”

“Albus was never omniscient, Harry,” Severus said. “He just liked to pretend.”

“He was pretty damn close to it, though, wasn’t he?” Ron said thoughtfully. “I mean, he knew I’d be having second thoughts and leave. He also knew I’d need a way to come back.”

“He went wrong with the wand,” Hermione said. “He didn’t expect Malfoy to Disarm him.”

“So he wasn’t omniscient,” Harry said, clenching his robes in one hand. “But he missed a pretty big thing. How could he realize Voldemort was using Horcruxes but miss that he could still come back to life? I actually _talked_ to him and he told me it’d be over if I came back!”

“Would you have stayed if you’d known?” Severus asked.

“Maybe,” Harry admitted. “It was looking pretty good then and it looks even better now…if only so that I can throttle Dumbledore.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Harry!” Hermione said sharply. “You’re talking about _dying_!”

“I did last time, Hermione. Don’t worry; I don’t plan on kicking the bucket until Voldemort’s gone for good this time. And even then,” he continued, “I’m planning on living for as long as Death allows me to.”

“As it should be,” Severus intoned. “As it should be.”

The boat reached the end of the island then. Ron, sitting at the end, looped the rope around an iron peg and fastened it snugly. They could leave the island by other means but this was the traditional way for those wanting to pay respects to one of Hogwarts’ finest headmasters.

The four friends slowly approached the tomb, following Harry. The Boy Who Lived’s scar was tingling numbly but he attributed it to the presence of the Elder Wand.

Then he stopped short, almost causing Severus to run into him. “Harry?” The former Death Eater caught sight of what had startled Harry so. “Oh, _Merlin_.”

“What?” Ron craned his head around a stunned Hermione; he swallowed. “Bloody hell. That can’t be good.”

The tomb was split open, revealing the elderly wizard entombed within. Dreading what he would find inside, Harry cautiously approached. He leaned over the edge, looking for the familiar shape that should be lying in Dumbledore’s hands.

“ _No_ ,” he gasped, staggering backwards.

“What, Harry?” Severus asked. “What is it?”

“The wand—”

“Bloody _hell_! The _castle_!”

“—is snapped in two!”

“ _Harry_! Hogwarts is on fire!”

Ripping his eyes off of the two pieces of the once powerful Elder Wand, Harry looked over to where Hogwarts was standing. His face paled even further as he saw that it was engulfed in flames… _cursed_ flames.

Severus had inspected the tomb and was now looking at the castle himself, face grim. He swept over to Harry. “How long has it been since the tomb was forced open and the wand snapped?”

“Err…” Harry turned his focus to the magic surrounding the tomb. When he found what he was looking for he swore violently. “ _Minutes_! We missed the bloody son of a bastard by _minutes_! He knew we needed the wand and—” He cut off, too angry to continue.

“He must have gone to attack the castle while we were arriving,” Severus concluded grimly.

Harry growled in frustration and stormed in the direction of the castle. “Come on! We need to help!”

Just after the four Disapparated to Hogwarts, there was a violent explosion and the entire castle collapsed.

* * *

**November 23, 1994**

“Oh, come on, Harry, again!”

Harry waved his wand at the mouse Hermione had on the desk and said, “ _Ruptispectis_!” As he did, he squashed the magic coming out of his wand so that it once again, like it had the last so many times he’d done it, fizzled out halfway before even reaching the animal.

Hermione scowled at the spot where the Conjunctivitis Curse had fizzled out. “It’s been over a week and you still haven’t got that curse down!”

“Maybe it’s just not meant to be,” Harry offered, trying to hide a grin.

Hermione didn’t want to give up. “How else are you going to get past that dragon? I’ve looked it up: dragons are impervious to most spells. You’re lucky if you don’t get roasted alive!”

“Have some faith in Harry, Hermione,” Ron said from his spot in the corner. He was doing his Divinations homework. “You make it sound like he’s going in to die.”

“Well, that’s what the person who put my name in the goblet wants me to do,” Harry said, rubbing his forehead. “I just have to do my best _not_ to.”

“Try it again!” Hermione demanded, glaring at the mouse as if it had affronted her in some way.

Harry rolled his eyes in Ron’s direction and said, “ _Ruptispectis_.”

This time only a few meager sparks emitted from the tip of his wand.

“That didn’t have any power behind it at all!” Hermione was glaring at Harry now. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you _didn’t_ want to learn this spell!”

‘ _Bingo!_ ’ Harry offered a meek shrug. “I’m obviously not getting it. I don’t think it’s worth our time and effort to beat this into me. Couldn’t we work on something else?”

“You already have the Summoning Charm and the water charm down,” Hermione said, looking down at her notes. “I don’t think you could be any _more_ prepared to face a dragon. _Aguamenti_ isn’t going to do much against dragon fire, but it should offer you some cover. But what are you going to Summon? Sirius already said that the object would have wards against that!”

“I was thinking I’d do something with flying,” Harry said honestly.

Ron sat up incredulously. “You’re going to out fly a _dragon_?”

“Not out fly. Just…avoid so I can get to whatever it is that I need to filch.”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “Well…it would work, I think. You’d have to be really quick, though, depending on what dragon you get.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Actually, I’m planning on flying as slow as a snail and getting roasted alive for my efforts.”

Ron snorted, and Hermione managed a small smile.

Harry looked at the mouse on the desk and Transfigured it back into a teacup with a word and a swish of his wand. “I’ll be fine, I should think.”

“If not,” Ron said, “you can always just chuck a toilet seat at it. I think Fred and George have one on standby…”

* * *

“You realize that you have the first task of the tournament tomorrow, do you not?” Severus asked.

“Really? I thought it was the day after!” Harry shot a Blasting Curse at the dummy and dodged the two spells sent his way by other two. “No worries, Severus; I know what I’m doing.”

“I would hope so,” the Potions master muttered, returning to his book. He continued writing in it.

The night after Harry had received the Resurrection Stone from Severus, he’d gone to the Potions master’s rooms and dragged him up to the Room of Requirement. Once there, he’d had Severus sit in a chair and simply watch as he went round after round with the dummies the room provided.

“Why exactly did you see fit to drag me up here, Potter?” Severus had asked, not looking up from the book he was reading.

“Why not? You were the one who trained me in the future. You can help me polish my skills.” Harry had purposefully dropped his elbow then.

“Your elbow is dropped,” Severus had said without looking up from his book.

Harry had hidden a smile and fixed it. But on the next curse he shifted his foot so his center of balance was off.

“Your foot is out of alignment.”

And so it had gone. After that one night, Harry had continued the nightly sessions with Severus and run him through his entire arsenal of spells and acquainted the older wizard with his fighting style. Now, more than a week later, he was honing his skills and getting himself into better shape.

For all his Quidditch playing and youth, his fourteen-year-old body wasn’t as in shape as his thirty-year-old body.

Bringing his attention back to the present, Harry whirled past a flurry of different curses and snapped his wand through an arc. “ _Expelliarmus_!” The wide-range Disarming spell soared through the air and Disarmed the three dummies simultaneously.

He heard Severus momentarily stop scribbling in his book and looked out of the corner of his eye to see the Potions master look as surprised as he ever did.

“That…” Severus didn’t seem to know what to say.

“One of my specialties,” Harry said, sheathing his wand. “That, along with _Sectumsempra_.”

Severus seemed to absorb this information for a moment before nodding and snapping the book he had been writing in shut. “If you’re quite done then, Potter, it is late.”

Harry scrutinized the room once and nodded. “I’m done. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He shot Severus a grin. “Try not to get a heart attack, all right?”

Severus sneered and swept past him, his black robes billowing dramatically.

Harry hid a smile and pulled on his cloak. He’d work Severus up to calling him more informally.

* * *

The day of the first task was bright and sunny, though Harry’s mood was anything but. He had thought he would be able to face the task without the butterflies in his stomach of last time, but it seemed that even age couldn’t get rid of the fear that facing a dragon would bring.

‘ _That’s the last time I get cocky about facing a dragon,_ ’ Harry thought sourly as he followed Minerva down the steps of the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron had already wished him luck and he knew they would be waiting anxiously for his safe return.

Before Minerva let him go, she put a hand on his shoulder. “Now don’t panic,” she advised, “just keep a cool head…We’ve got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand… The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you… Are you all right?”

Harry felt a surge of affection for his Transfigurations professor, who had taught him so much more than even she knew at this point. “I’m fine, Professor.”

Minerva led him to the place where the dragons were held around the edge of the forest.

“You’re to go in here with the other champions,” Minerva explained, her voice sounding shaky, “and wait for your instructions, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there…he’ll be telling you the –the procedure… Good luck.”

Harry shot Minerva a smile that he hoped came off as reassuring and not as faintly ill, though he didn’t think he was very successful. “Thanks.”

When he went into the tent, Harry saw that he wasn’t the only one facing an attack of the stomach butterflies. Though this appeased him, the cheerful nature of Ludo made him want to throw a bucket of water on the man.

“Harry! Good-o!” Ludo said happily, catching sight of him. “Come in, come in, make yourself at home!”

‘ _It’s a **tent** ,_’ Harry thought, resisting the urge to eye the man as if he was demented.

“Well, now we’re all here – time to fill you in!” Ludo began brightly. “When the audience has assembled, I’m going to be offering each of you this bag”—he held up a small sack of purple silk and shook it—“from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different, er, varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else, too…ah, yes…your task is to _collect the golden egg_!”

Following this explanation, the tent entered a stiff silence as the champions waited for the audience to assemble. Through the haze of his adjusted Occlumency shields, Harry wondered if the audience had any idea just how dangerous this tournament really was. Did it say much for humanity that it enjoyed watching other people put their lives at risk?

‘ _And these are the people I’m trying to save,_ ’ Harry thought, looking down at his interlaced fingers. After another moment, he reconsidered. ‘ _No… I’m fighting to save those that are precious to **me**. If I fight for the rest of the world, I’ll never succeed. But if I fight for those I love…_ ’ He thought of Severus, Ron, Hermione…and an image of long red hair flashed across his mind before he shoved that into a locked casket.

When Ludo eventually held out the bag for the champions to pick from, Harry watched with some surprise as everyone picked the _exact_ same dragons as last time. He pulled out the Hungarian Horntail with a blank expression, and it bared its fangs at him as he held it.

“Well, there you are!” Ludo said. “You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now I’m going to leave you in a moment because I’m commentating. Mr. Diggory, you’re first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right? Now…Harry…could I have a quick word? Outside?”

Harry stared at Ludo for a long moment, causing the man to shift uncomfortably. “Can’t it be said in here?” he finally asked, vaguely remembering that Ludo had a bet on him winning.

Ludo looked uncomfortable. “Ah…well…”

“If it has to do with the tournament, shouldn’t the others hear it as well?” Harry pressed.

“Err—”

“Cedric’s about to go,” Harry prompted, enjoying the flustered look on Ludo’s face.

It was with no small relief that Ludo announced he had to leave and he dashed out of the tent.

Cedric stared at Harry. “What was _that_?”

Harry was vaguely surprised that the boy even had the sense of mind to ask. “I don’t know,” he said untruthfully. A whistle sounded. “Isn’t that your call?”

The Hufflepuff turned slightly green at the reminder and nodded. Like an automaton, he walked out of the tent, leaving the other three champions behind.

Harry ignored the two foreign students and took a seat, staring down at the model of the Horntail he held. He didn’t move from this position even as Fleur went to face hers and Krum was the only one left.

Nor did he move when it was finally Krum’s turn.

Only when he was alone did he begin flicking the miniature of the Hungarian Horntail between his fingers, ignoring its writhes of discomfort.

The cheers of the crowd registered somewhere in the back of his head, though he was more concerned with the reactions of his own body. Merlin, he’d faced Voldemort no less than a dozen times and he was getting this scared over a _dragon_?

‘ _You’ve done this before, Potter. And when fourteen to boot. You’re fully trained as a wizard now…_ ’

But that thought didn’t really help when he had to pretend he was a fourth-year Gryffindor.

Inhaling deeply, Harry pocketed the figurine as the whistle blew to announce his turn. He dropped the rigid Occlumency shields he had been implementing over the last months to dampen his reflexes and returned them to the normal sort he’d first learned.

The noise of the crowd as he entered the field was instantly tuned out as he focused on the Horntail, which was protectively curled up around her eggs. Raising his wand, Harry remembered to voice the incantation. “ _Accio Firebolt_!”

His magic was stronger this time, meaning his Firebolt should be here any second. Sure enough, within ten seconds Harry heard the telltale whooshing sound.

Not taking his eyes off the dragon, Harry flicked his wand to direct the broom’s path. Breaking into a sprint, he mounted the still moving broom and took off, using his magic to abruptly accelerate from slow to fast.

The Firebolt hummed under his hands and the familiar giddy feeling of flying was filling Harry’s body. Despite this, Harry continued to focus on his goal: the golden egg under the Horntail’s body. His eyes flickered down towards the egg before returning to the Horntail’s, which snorted smoke at the eye contact.

Fearlessly, Harry performed a swoop towards the nest and was rewarded by a pillar of flame. Pressing so close to the broom that he was practically one with it, Harry angled a hard left before swerving up and curving over the flames. He aimed a Stunning Spell at the dragon, purposefully missing and shooting over the head.

He tuned into the announcer to hear Ludo shouting, “Oh that was a close one! What’s this? Mr. Potter is tackling the dragon head-on! Merlin, it’s as if he was _made_ to fly! Mr. Krum, are you watching this?”

Tuning back out, Harry focused on his flight pattern, as he was indeed flying directly towards the agitated nesting mother. At the last moment, however, he banked right, avoiding another blast of fire. He aimed for the tail now, watching out of the corner of his eye as the Horntail followed his movements.

When the tail lashed out at him, Harry corkscrewed under it, diving towards the ground.

‘ _Come on… Give me some flames here._ ’

His wish was granted as the Horntail attacked with fire again as he came too close to the nest and the dragon – only ten meters away. Harry used the distraction of the extremely hot flames to press so close to the ground that he was skimming it with his feet and knees. His elbows were tucked tightly into his sides and his left hand was gripping the broom handle. His right was resting right on top, his wand held fast.

Using the dragon’s unintentional cover of flames, Harry veered under her belly and over the nest, snatching the golden egg with his left hand.

Dead focused now on getting back to safety before the Horntail noticed the egg’s absence and decided to roast him for good, Harry urged his Firebolt to the limits of its ability. Like a bolt, he streaked out from under the enraged mother’s belly, diving to the side to avoid another torrent of flames. His maneuver brought him closer to the exit and he blasted through the safety charms a split-second later.

Bringing his broom to a smooth halt, Harry tuned back into the outside world, hearing Ludo loudly announce amidst deafening roars, “—never seen flying like that before! Our youngest champion is the fastest to get his egg and completely unscathed! This should shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!”

‘ _Unscathed except for fatigue, you numbskull,_ ’ Harry thought numbly, getting off his broom with incredibly shaky legs. Skilled as he was, his fourteen-year-old body was not used to such flying, being more adapted to the much more leisurely pursuit of the Snitch.

Hermione and Ron were anxiously approaching him now.

“Harry! Oh, Harry!” Hermione squeaked, her face white with fright. “Are – are you all right?”

Ron was also paler than usual. “Blimey, mate…you gave us both an awful scare. What were you _thinking_?”

Harry flicked his wand back into its holster and gripped his broom. “Gave myself a fright.”

“How’d you _manage_ that?” Ron asked incredulously. “You flew right under the fire! We thought you were a goner!”

“Pressed _reeeaaally_ close to the ground,” Harry answered. “Wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re a good flyer.”

Ron gave Harry a relieved thump on the back while Hermione hugged him fiercely, causing him to flinch in reflex and almost draw his wand. When she released him, he gave her a sheepish grin and once again strengthened his shields.

They followed him into the tent, where he was promptly fussed over by Poppy.

“Unscathed, are you?” she muttered angrily. “I’ll see about _that_. What are they thinking, bringing _dragons_ onto the grounds? Do they want to kill everyone?”

After two thorough medical scans, Harry had convinced a highly skeptical Poppy that he was indeed unscathed from facing the most dangerous dragon in the entire tournament. Giving him a Calming Draught just to be sure he wasn’t in shock, Poppy finally let him go.

Medical checkup done, his friends accompanied him to the field – thankfully with no dragon now – to await his scores.

“You were the best, mate,” Ron told Harry proudly. “No competition from the others. Cedric did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground…turned it into a dog…he was trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, it was a pretty cool bit of Transfiguration, and it sort of worked, because he did get the egg, but he got burned as well – the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it would rather have him than the Labrador; he only just got away. And that Fleur girl tried this sort of charm, I think she was trying to put it into a trance – well that kind of worked, too, it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire – she put it out with a bit of water out of her wand. And Krum – you won’t believe this, but he didn’t even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, though. Hit it with some sort of spell right in the eye…probably that Conjunctivitis Curse you were working on. Only thing is, it went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs – they took marks off for that, he wasn’t supposed to do any damage to them. Guess it’s a good thing you didn’t use it after all, eh?”

Harry grinned at Ron as his friend finally finished his diatribe, giving him a friendly nudge on the shoulder with his broom handle. “Thanks for letting me know, Ron. Next time I face a hungry dragon, I’m going to Transfigure a rock into a dancing girl and shoot it in the eye with the Conjunctivitis Curse – if I ever the hang of it – before I fly in and grab the egg.”

“Don’t even joke about that, Harry!” Hermione said reprovingly. “Dragons are a really dangerous business. You’re lucky you weren’t roasted alive!”

“I know, Hermione. I was the one flying under the flames.” Harry looked up at the judges to see what scores they would give him this time around. From what he recalled – very vaguely – Karkaroff had given him the lowest score of all the judges. What would he give this time around considering his performance?

The first judge was Madame Maxime, and her wand released a silver ribbon that trailed itself into a ten.

“Perfect score!” Ron crowed as the crowd applauded. “Not surprising, though, considering you didn’t get hurt at all.”

Crouch was next and he shot a nine in the air.

“That’s probably because it _looked_ like you were being roasted alive,” Hermione said.

“Should’ve been a ten then since he wasn’t,” Ron disagreed.

Dumbledore’s score was next and his wand emitted a ten, causing the crowd to erupt into even louder cheers. When Ludo shot his own mark – a ten as well – the crowd really went crazy.

“Looking great, mate!” Ron shouted excitedly.

And now Karkaroff came, shooting a miserable seven in the air. The undeserved mark gave him a round of boos from the crowd, which he ignored.

“ _Seven_?” Ron choked angrily. “He gave you a bloody _seven_? He gave Krum a ten and his dragon squashed the eggs!”

“Who cares?” Harry said dismissively. “It’s better I survived, eh?”

As they made their way to the school, they were met by Charlie. “Great job, Harry! You’re in first place, you know. Krum’s right after you. Listen, I’ve got to run, I’ve got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I’d tell her what happened – but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah – and they told me to tell you you’ve got to hang around for a few more minutes… Bagman wants a word, back in the champions’ tent.”

Ron and Hermione stayed behind then as Harry went back into the tent. He was joined by the other three champions. Cedric had a thick orange paste covering his face where he’d been burned.

He grinned at Harry. “Nice, Harry.”

Harry smiled amiably back. “Thanks. You, too.”

Ludo joined them at that moment. “Well done, _all_ of you! Now, just a quick few words. You’ve got a nice long break before the second task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth – but we’re giving you something to think about in the meantime! If you look down at those golden eggs you’re all holding, you will see that they open…see the hinges there? You need to solve the clue inside the egg – because it will tell you what the second task is, and enable you to prepare for it! All clear? Sure? Well, off you go, then!”

With the first task behind him, Harry rejoined his friends and they set off towards the castle.

* * *

Once in the Gryffindor common room, Harry was assaulted by the noise of the party. His wand was out in his hand before he could stop himself, although Ron’s hand on his arm prevented any curses from flying from the tip.

“Brilliantly done, Harry!” George shouted above the din. “That’ll show them what you’re worth, eh?”

Harry kept the golden egg clutched under his arm, wincing imperceptibly as the din jangled his nerves and stiffened his muscles in preparation for a fight. He was edging towards the dorms when Lee caught his arm and pulled him to the middle, where a large table was set up.

“Let’s see what’s in the egg, shall we?” the dark-skinned teen asked eagerly.

Heart pounding in his ears from the attention and his skin humming with magic, Harry prayed that nothing would happen as he put the egg on the table. He cracked it open and immediately the most horrible screechy wailing filled the air, causing everyone to flinch and cover their ears.

For his part, Harry had meant to keep the egg open longer, but the noise caused him to react faster than he could think, and the egg was slammed shut, abruptly cutting off the wailing.

There was a stunned silence for a long moment.

Then Ron spoke. “What in bloody hell was _that_?”

“It sounded like Percy singing in the shower,” George quipped, rubbing his ears.

“Maybe you have to attack him,” Fred added.

“Oh, don’t be such prats!” Hermione scolded. “He’s your brother!”

“And a git—”

“—of one!”

As the party continued, Harry gave up on trying to sneak up to the dormitories as it was being blocked by some boys (who’d probably been stationed there to stop him from doing that, he thought sourly) and pulled on his Invisibility Cloak to sneak out of the common room.

He sighed in relief and sagged against the wall as blessed silence enveloped him and soothed his nerves. Rubbing his temples, where a headache was beginning to bloom, Harry adjusted his grip on the egg and made his way to the Room of Requirement.

A door was already there and a surprised Harry opened it to find a cozy sitting room with two armchairs. Slipping inside, he pulled off his Invisibility Cloak and left it hanging around his shoulders like he always did.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming,” Severus said from his chair by the fireplace.

Harry sighed and sat in the other chair, placing the egg between his feet. “I can’t handle the noise. I almost cursed Lee when he dragged me into the middle of the room to show them all the egg. They’re just lucky Ron was holding my arm when I first entered.”

Severus didn’t say anything for a long while and Harry took the opportunity to relax and unwind from the stress of that day. He’d just started on relaxing his muscles when the Potions master spoke again.

“Was it your plan to look like you were being roasted alive?”

Harry stared at him blankly. “Pardon?”

“Did you plan on giving the appearance of being roasted alive?” Severus repeated shortly.

Harry wondered at the tone for a moment before he realized that Severus had been worried. A grin split his face. “Why, Severus! Were you _worried_ about me?”

Severus sneered, though Harry could see that it was halfhearted. “Of course not, Potter. Merely wondering what possessed you to perform such an act of stupidity.”

“Well, I _did_ warn you not to get a heart attack,” Harry said cheerfully, enjoying Severus’s disgusted look. “It’s all right to be worried, Severus. To be entirely truthful, I did plan on the dragon giving me some cover so I could get to her nest. But I didn’t plan on pressing so close to the ground like that.”

“Brilliant. The Boy Who Lived To Be Fourteen Again ends up dying because he didn’t plan on being roasted by a dragon.”

“I know my protective enchantments,” Harry said. “At worst, my robes would’ve caught on fire.”

“At _worst_ , he says,” Severus muttered, rolling his eyes. “At _worst_ his robes would have caught on fire…”

Harry stifled a grin and covered his yawn behind a hand. “Think you can wake me up around three? I think the party stops then…”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Severus said snidely, pointing his wand at the fireplace to lower the flames. “Have a nice nap, Potter.”

But Harry had already Transfigured the chair to a bed and fallen asleep.

* * *

At three-thirty in the morning, Harry made his way into Gryffindor common room, thankful that the party had finally ended. The house-elves had already cleaned up the mess, though he could still see the remnants of the drinks that the Weasley twins had managed to smuggle in.

He’d just pulled off his cloak when a voice from the fireplace made him startle. “Where—”

Whirling, Harry had his wand out in his hand and aimed towards the source, only to find himself staring into a stricken Hermione’s face. Exhaling shakily and realizing he’d just avoided cursing one of his best friends, Harry sheathed his wand and frantically thought of a way to cover his completely overblown reaction.

“Harry—” Hermione’s voice squeaked and she had to clear her throat. “Harry…where have you been?”

This he could answer. “Out.”

Hermione bit her lip, eyeing him cautiously. “This isn’t the first time.”

Harry shifted nervously. “I’m sorry?”

She took a deep breath. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been out of the common room after curfew. I’ve noticed…you’re not in your bed—”

Harry’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. “You’re telling me that you’re _sneaking_ up to the boys’ dormitory _in the middle of the night_?”

Hermione blushed furiously. “No! It’s just…I was down here one night doing homework when I saw the portrait door open but no one was there. I thought it was you under your cloak and just let it be, but…that wasn’t the only time. Where are you going?”

Harry cursed himself for his laxness and then grudgingly admitted to himself that this was why he had his Occlumency shields up. “Like I said before…I’m going out.”

Hermione stood up, folding her arms across her chest defensively. “You’ve changed, Harry… You’re jumpier than usual. You wouldn’t have reacted the way you did just now last year. You’ve been jumpy ever since the Quidditch World Cup.” She inhaled deeply and looked Harry right in the eye. “What’s going on, Harry? Are you all right?”

For once, Harry wished that Hermione didn’t have to be so bloody _brilliant_. She figured out the most inopportune things at the most inopportune times. But he supposed he should thank his lucky stars that she didn’t know _what_ exactly was up.

There was no particular reason he _shouldn’t_ tell her to be honest… But she was only fourteen and didn’t have any idea of the horrors Harry had gone through. He didn’t want to have to spoil that innocence too early. Someday he’d tell her, but now…

“Something happened to me over summer,” Harry said slowly, watching Hermione for her reaction.

Hermione’s face twisted. “Something bad? Was it your relatives? Harry, if they—”

“They didn’t hurt me!” Harry said hastily. “No, really, they didn’t. Something else happened. It’s not bad, but this is the result.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “And what about where you’re going?”

Harry sighed, adjusting the grip he had on the egg. “Hermione, there are things I can’t – _shouldn’t_ – tell you.”

“You can’t or you shouldn’t?”

“Shouldn’t.”

“Is someone forcing you, Harry?” Hermione asked softly, her face pale.

“It’s my own decision.” Harry hesitated for a moment before he made his choice. “I’ll tell you someday, Hermione; and Ron, too. But for now…just know that I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Hermione.” He gave her a smile. “That Conjunctivitis Curse really is a nasty piece of business, you know?”

With another hidden smile at the look on Hermione’s face as she absorbed the information he had just given her, he moved upstairs to bed. She wouldn’t tell Ron, he knew that. If she had wanted to, she would have had Ron stay down as well.

At the moment, though, he just wanted to sleep.

* * *

**September 2, 2002**

A distance away from the smoldering ruins of Hogwarts, a camp of survivors was huddled together. They were wide-eyed, singed with soot, and sporting burns of various degrees.

Ginny had just finished helping a small second-year girl with second-degree burns when Harry stepped by her. “She’ll be all right?”

“She’ll live,” Ginny said quietly, standing up. “And you, Harry?”

Harry gazed blankly at her for a moment and then shook his head. “I’ll live, too,” he said.

He was numb with shock and horror. Hogwarts, the castle he’d been calling home since 1999 (or 1991 if he wanted to be really honest), was gone. And gone on the first day of term.

The first years had made it out, as did the Sorting Hat for some odd reason. But while they’d been lucky with the younger years, many of the older students hadn’t made it out.

“Come on, Harry,” Ginny whispered, recognizing the haunted look in his green eyes. She took his hand and gently guided him to where their friends were sitting.

“Minerva’s gone,” Harry rasped as they joined the group. “I looked but…”

“She was taking care of the first years,” Draco said hoarsely. He held an ice pack to his face, which was red and raw. “I tried to get her out…”

“She wouldn’t listen,” Ginny finished quietly.

“A true Headmistress,” Severus noted tonelessly, gazing out at the lake.

“Who else?” Hermione asked dully. “I haven’t—”

“Neville,” Harry murmured, sitting down heavily. “And most of the seventh years if I figure it right.” He glanced over at the camp of students. “Most of Hogwarts really. I checked…but no one made it.”

“It happened so quickly,” Draco whispered, hands shaking. “The fire…”

“It was cursed,” Ginny said, clutching Harry’s hand. “No matter what we did, it kept consuming everything.”

Severus looked up, eyes gleaming. “Fiendfyre?”

Draco shook his head. “No. It was cursed fire of a different nature. It seemed to come from the stones.”

Ron’s face was ashen. “ _Hogwarts_ did that fire?”

“It’s not possible,” Hermione protested. “There’s no spell—”

“Unless it was a safeguard,” Harry said. “A safeguard that was somehow tampered with… Minerva must have known, just like she knew about the Apparating safeguards.”

“Who tampered with it?” Ron asked. “You-Know-Who?”

Harry’s mouth twisted. “He got to the Elder Wand moments before we did. He’s the Heir of Slytherin and probably familiarized himself with Hogwarts. It’s a safe bet it was him.”

“The wand’s gone?” Draco repeated numbly. “But—”

“I know,” Harry said tiredly. Since he’d first murmured about the Elder Wand several days ago after King’s Cross Station, he’d known instinctively that the wand was _it_ : the tool to end the war. “That was virtually our only shot.”

“That is not true,” Severus snapped. “We aren’t done yet. The wand is merely a tool.”

Filius Flitwick joined the group then, looking even smaller than how he usually did. “We will help you, Harry,” the tiny Charms master promised. “There’s more you can learn.”

“I’m not worried about that,” Harry said, looking down. “It’s the students.”

“Horace is still here,” Filius said. “As is Poppy. Matthew and Rebecca are also ready to help. We should be able to pull something together with the Ministry’s help. Kingsley—”

A silver light bolted into their midst and was promptly the recipient of seven wands.

“A Patronus,” Ginny breathed. “Who’s—?”

The Patronus solidified into a lynx and began speaking in Kingsley’s deep voice. “We are under attack. The Ministry—”

The message cut off abruptly as the Patronus flickered out like a light, leaving them once again in relative darkness.

“What did that mean?” Ron met Harry’s eyes, confusion and fear painted in his own. “That’s never happened before.”

“The Minister is dead,” Draco said harshly. “Someone has just killed him.”

“Then—”

Harry stood up, his knuckles white as he clenched his wand tightly. “We’re moving. Now. It’s not safe.”

His tone held such finality and power that even the older wizards heeded him without saying a word.


	12. A Yule Ball Prank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *coughs shamefully* Hi? Um...don't really have any excuse for my absence...except to say that this story is not abandoned... I have an outline for how it'll end (did I say this already last time? I'll repeat it), but I don't have the middle. It's kind of like a sandwich missing the meaty part, and the meat's the substance... I have the lettuce and bread, but nothing else. (Maybe that simile was a bad one.)
> 
> So...seeing as how I started this story 3 years ago, and I've written quite a few other stories since then, and my writing's changed as well as how I interpret these characters...there's probably going to be a point where you'll see a shift in the writing style, but that'll be a in a few chapters. In any case, I picked through this chapter for some basic editing, but there's not much else I can do.
> 
> I can't make any promises either for when Chapter 13 will be up, but hopefully sooner than this one? It's almost 10,000 words, so it's a long one! *hides in bunker*
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and left feedback! I'm sorry if I've not responded to everyone's, but I do read them, and I hold them close to my heart (except for flames; those go in the garbage).
> 
>  **WARNING (highlight to read):** A villain rather graphically hints at raping someone.

**December 24, 2002**

It was bitterly cold, and the wind bit at them despite the protective charms they put up. Visibility was low due to the torrents of ice cold rain – as it was too cold for snow – but that was welcomed given the nature of their mission.

Spray rose before them in momentous torrents, the water slamming against the rocks and the thunderous roar threatening to deafen them all if not for the protective enchantments they had up. They needed all their senses about them, though sight was one gladly sacrificed for safety.

Two wizards stood at the peak of an outcrop of rock, their cloaks billowing around them. The younger stared out over the tumultuous water with a grim look. The older was just as grim, but this seemed more out of habit than necessity.

As if on a signal, the younger raised his wand. A flash of white light emitted from the tip to disappear into the distance.

Severus shifted nervously. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Harry,” he muttered.

“I know.” Harry glanced back to the cliffs and the caves they hid. “But they can’t go on like this. The older ones can take care of themselves but the younger? They’re absolutely terrified.”

“But in this weather?”

“He’ll be expecting us to wait for better weather,” Harry said, peering into the storm-filled darkness. “Besides, it’s Christmas Eve. What better time to hope for a miracle?”

“For their sakes, Harry, this had better work.” Severus didn’t sound chiding so much as resigned.

Harry didn’t reply except to give off another flash of light from his wand.

After this one had also faded into the darkness, there was an answering flash and a low keening whistle. Then something flew into view, struggling against the mad winds even though there was what looked like a protective bubble around it.

A magic carpet with a familiar dreamy-eyed and blonde-haired witch came to a stop in front of Severus and Harry. “Hallo, Harry,” Luna Lovegood said pleasantly as if she wasn’t flying in the middle of a mad winter storm; “hallo, Professor.”

“I haven’t been a professor for a while, Ms. Lovegood,” Severus said, inspecting the magic carpet critically.

“She hasn’t been a student either,” Harry said. “Everything all right, Luna?”

“All right, Harry. These carpets really are marvelous, you know.” Luna threw him a cloth bag. “Portkeys are in there. They’re due to go off in ten.”

“Will they break through the wards put up?” Severus asked, watching Harry pull out several cups and inspect them before returning them to the bag.

“I did, didn’t I?” Luna said.

“It’s not like he expected a magical carpet to fly in on Christmas Eve,” Harry said. “Broomsticks would’ve been a dead giveaway. He’s got wards all over for that.”

“Nine minutes, Harry,” Luna said, resting her wand on her knees.

“Right. Severus, stay out here with Luna. I’ll go and distribute these.” Clutching the valuable bag, Harry rushed into the caves.

“Everything all right?” Hermione inquired anxiously.

“Portkeys,” Harry said briskly, looking about the small cave filled with the survivors from Hogwarts. “It’s requisite for sixth years and down. Anyone else, it’s your choice as to whether you want to stay. You’re of age and I can’t stop you.”

“What about you, sir?” a pale eleven-year-old girl asked.

“We’re staying,” Harry said, looking round at the wide eyes and hollow, pale faces that was all what remained of Hogwarts’ residents. “We’re not going to let him win. But you have to leave.” He began tossing the Portkeys to the different groups. “You know the groups you belong to. They activate in three minutes. Make sure to have a body part either on the Portkey or on someone else taking it.”

“It’s a one-time chance,” Draco said from the other side. “I suggest you take it.”

“I’m staying,” Rebecca Hawkins said, her pale face glimmering in the white wand lights.

“As am I,” Matthew Hitchins spoke up.

With the Head Girl and Head Boy voicing their choice, the five remaining seventh years also determined to stay.

“It’s your choice,” Harry said. He checked the magic of the Portkeys and found it oddly subdued. He hoped it was just a consequence of it being timed. “Thirty seconds.”

The air was tense in the cave as the seconds counted down. Many eyes were screwed shut in anticipation while others merely looked ill.

As the clock hit ten seconds, Harry really hoped these illegal – in Britain – international Portkeys lived up to their reputation. Arriving somewhere not in the Middle East wouldn’t be good in the slightest.

But then…this was _Luna_. She had always come through. If she said the Middle Eastern magical government was sympathetic to their plight, it would be.

Eight seconds were left when a cry was raised from outside. “ _Harry_!”

Sensing the area, Harry could feel the rotting signatures of a dozen Death Eaters and several regular Dark wizards thrown in the mix. Furthermore, anti-Apparition wards had also been put up, meaning they couldn’t even Apparate away from this place to somewhere within Britain.

Cursing roundly and wondering how they’d been found out, Harry turned to aid Severus and Luna. “Get them out!” he snapped at his friends.

But he’d just stepped into the freezing rain when a desperate cry from the inside had him running back.

Ron met him on the way, eyes wide. “The Portkeys aren’t working!” he said quickly.

Harry cursed again. “Get out there and back up Severus and Luna. I’ll send Draco out.”

Without another word, they parted ways. Harry rushed into the cave, which had exploded into panicked whispers and crying. At least they weren’t screaming.

Harry sent out a bright flash of light from his wand, catching everyone’s attention. “Draco, get out and help them. There are a dozen Death Eaters and some regular Dark ones. Hermione, you’re going to help me. The rest of you, _stay by your Portkeys_.”

Orders given, Draco ran outside into the cold and Hermione rushed over to Harry. “Nothing happened!”

Harry felt for the magic of the Portkeys and had to inhale sharply when he realized there was absolutely nothing. They’d activated, but the wards had prevented the actual Portkeying.

“We’ll have to charm them again,” Harry whispered rapidly. “I should think they realized something’s up and have given us authorization to do so. Even if not, these Portkeys are going to be made.”

Hermione looked desperate. “How? You’d be better off asking Filius! Oh, if only he had come with!”

Harry tightened his lips, thinking furiously. He couldn’t take down these wards like he had back in August as they covered an entire nation. If he could have, he would’ve made these Portkeys himself. But there had to be _something_ he was missing.

The wards that usually prevented Apparition and Portkeying to and from Britain applied to everyone, including the caster unless he made some special concessions.

“And there’s no way Voldemort would allow such a liability,” Harry murmured in realization, perplexing Hermione.

“What, Harry?” She glanced at the exit upon hearing a particularly vicious scream be abruptly cut off.

But Harry was already moving to the closest group. He held his wand out over the Portkey they were all touching. With a deep breath, he twisted his magic to do something he hadn’t done since eliminating Severus’s and Draco’s Marks.

His magic now matching that of Voldemort’s, Harry tapped the Portkey and thought of the magical signature it had earlier. “ _Portus_.”

The Portkey glowed blue and then, since Harry hadn’t set a timer, instantly Portkeyed the group away.

Hermione gasped. “ _Harry_! How did you do that?”

Harry moved to the next group, the kids wearing hopeful expressions. “Unless you can morph your magic to match that of Voldemort’s, you can’t help in here. Get outside.”

Hermione opened her mouth, seemed to think better of it, and nodded, turning on her heel and running out.

In the meantime, Harry moved rapidly from group to group, feeling the disgusting taste of Voldemort’s magic fill him from the inside out. It was twisted, Dark, and stank of death and despair. It was a strain simply holding it, let alone casting a complicated piece of magic such as a Portkey.

‘ _Two more groups…_ ’ Harry tapped the cracked vase the group was touching, whispering, “ _Portus_.”

When he reached the last group, he was about ready to collapse, but managed to send them off. With an exhale, he let his magic fall back into its natural state and felt his limbs tremble in exertion.

But he couldn’t stop now. His friends needed his help out there.

“Harry?” Rebecca asked tentatively.

Harry opened his eyes, meeting those of the seventh years. “You don’t have to stay,” he said.

“We will,” Matthew said firmly. “What—”

“Stay in here for now,” Harry said, gathering the jangled pieces of his magic back together. “I’m going to bring the others back. I’ll need you to hold off anyone coming in. Remember: fire spells only, though spells that incapacitate are just as good if they hold for long enough.”

Without another word, Harry ran outside and promptly ducked the vibrant green of the Killing Curse. Glancing up to see a broom, he cast a well-aimed _Reducto_ that demolished the broom and some of the rider.

Ron ducked into the hollow where Harry was, panting heavily. “Harry—”

“They’re gone,” Harry interrupted him. “Only the seventh years are still here. Get back in and wait.”

“But—”

“ _Go_!” Harry shot a blinding yellow light into the sky to help illuminate where the enemy was and darted out.

There wasn’t much of a rocky outcrop left, as most of it had apparently been blasted away in the fight. Thus, it was easy for Harry to find his friends. He grabbed hold of Severus’s robes and pulled him back, ducking as the man sent a curse arcing his way.

Severus whirled around to see Harry and paled. “I could have killed you!”

“You trained me well enough and I was prepared,” Harry said dismissively. “Get back inside the cave. Where’s Luna?”

Severus looked up at the sky in answer, and Harry followed his gaze to see Luna fighting the Dark wizards in the air. She was holding her own fairly well, but the Dark wizards were more agile on brooms than she could be on the carpet.

“Her Portkey didn’t go off either, did it?”Harry asked rhetorically.

Severus spared enough time to give a shake of his head before ducking into the cave.

Harry had just turned to get Hermione when his scar burst into numb tingling: Voldemort was coming.

He cast a _Sonorus_. “Hermione! Get inside!”

The witch whirled from her spot on the edge of the cliff. “Harry?”

Harry dropped the spell and ran out to her, grabbing her and pushing her towards the cave. “He’s coming! When you feel that you can Disapparate, do it!”

Hermione opened her mouth even as Harry pushed her the rest of the way into the cave. “But what about you?”

Harry turned his attention to the skies and Luna. Narrowing his eyes, he cast the charm. “ _Accio carpet_!”

His magic snatched hold of the carpet and pulled it directly to him. As he’d hoped, there was a Sticking Charm on it that pulled Luna towards him as well.

“Where’s your Portkey?” Harry demanded as soon as a windswept Luna was besides him.

Luna didn’t question him. “Right here.”She handed over a piece of tapestry she procured from her robes.

Harry didn’t examine it. He twisted his magic and tapped it, picturing the same destination he had for the students. “ _Portus_.” He threw the tapestry at Luna, and it Portkeyed her away on contact.

Just as he released his magic, he heard the telltale swoosh of Voldemort’s robes as the Dark Lord landed in front of him, wand pointed directly at Harry’s chest.

“Happy Christmas, Harry,” Voldemort said, smiling in a way that sent shivers down Harry’s back.

Harry took a step back towards the cave, already focusing on the hole in the wards that he would have to tear through to be able to Disapparate from this place.

“Oh come…” Voldemort’s voice was silkily smooth. “Surely you don’t have to leave already? We haven’t even exchanged our gifts!”

Harry smirked. “Not to worry. I already gave you mine. Portkeying away Hogwarts’ students should do it, shouldn’t it?” His smirk widened upon seeing the enraged expression on Voldemort’s face. “Happy Christmas, Tom.”

As the enraged Dark Lord shot a Killing Curse in his direction, Harry tore through the wards and Disapparated.

Christmas was indeed a time for miracles.

* * *

**November 25, 1994**

“This calls for a celebration!” Ron declared, hooking an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“Does it?” Harry asked, amused.

“It does!” Ron insisted, nodding. “It’s not every day someone out flies a _dragon_!”

With trepidation, Harry wondered what Ron had in mind. “When you put it that way…”

“You know the way to the kitchens, right, mate?” Ron asked.

“You’re going to ask the house-elves for something?” Hermione exclaimed indignantly.

“Oh come off it, Hermione! You read the book,” Ron said. “They _like_ it when we ask for their help! Besides, I really want to meet this Dobby.”

“That does sound nice,” Hermione admitted reluctantly.

“Well, all right then,” Harry agreed, thinking it was a good idea. He did owe Dobby a visit after all.

Yet there was a niggling suspicion at the back of his mind. Since these things had saved his life on more than one occasion, Harry didn’t ignore it.

When it eventually came to bloom a few seconds later, he groaned inwardly upon realizing that Dobby would most likely start blabbering on about Kreacher or Severus or possibly both. Which meant he’d need to tell him it was a secret.

Seeing that Ron and Hermione were gazing at him expectantly, Harry said, “It’s down this way.”

When they arrived in front of the painting of the bowl of fruit, Harry was subject to two rather incredulous stares from his friends. Ignoring them, he reached out to tickle the pear, causing it to giggle and turn into a doorknob.

“The door to the kitchens is behind a portrait of a bowl of _fruit_?” Ron said incredulously.

“Wait ‘til you see the kitchens,” Harry advised.

When he opened the door, the trio were greeted by the sight of an enormous room as big as the Great Hall and with huge copper-colored pots and pans adorning the walls.

Ron gaped at the sight. “Whoa…bloody _brilliant_!”

Harry had just stepped in when a small ball of energy slammed into his stomach. His wand flicked into his hand, but the curse he was forming died on his lips when he heard Dobby’s excited voice.

“Harry Potter has come to see Dobby, sir! Dobby hoped that Harry Potter would see him, and Harry Potter has come!” Dobby beamed up at Harry, who managed to smile back despite the shock he had just suffered.

Ron and Hermione were staring at Dobby, and it took Harry a moment to see why. Compared to the other house-elves, Dobby was dressed in the oddest assortments of garments, which included a tea cozy, badges, soccer shorts, and a pair of mismatched socks.

Briefly, Harry hoped Dobby hadn’t subjected Kreacher to his atrocious fashion sense and if he had, that the elderly house-elf had the sense to pick something nice.

“This is Dobby?” Ron finally managed to ask.

Dobby beamed at Ron now. “Dobby is honored to meet another of Harry Potter’s friends!”

Hermione shot Harry an inscrutable look. “Another?”

“This is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger,” Harry said hastily. “They’ve wanted to see you since I told them how you helped me back in second year.”

Dobby looked like he would burst into tears. “Dobby is honored! Wheezy and Grunge”—Ron choked—“are great wizards to want to see Dobby!”

“It’s really great that you’ve found a job here, Dobby,” Hermione said, evidently not sharing the same outrage as Ron over her mangled name. “I heard that Winky is also here?”

Dobby nodded. “Oh yes, miss! Winky is here as well.”

“How is she?” Harry asked.

The house-elf’s ears drooped. “Not very well, sir.”

“Can we see her?” Hermione said anxiously.

Like last time Harry had done this, Winky was wearing a blouse and skirt, though they were filthy. She also had numerous glasses lying about her and was clearly drunk.

“Oh dear,” Hermione whispered. “What has she been drinking?”

“Butterbeer, miss,” Dobby said sadly.

“But…that isn’t very alcoholic, is it?” Hermione said.

“For house-elves, it is, miss,” Dobby said.

“Why is she so miserable? Mr. Crouch was awful!”

Evidently Winky had been listening, as she burst into tears at this slight against her former master.

“What did I do?” Hermione sounded dismayed.

“Winky was a bad house-elf!” Winky wailed. “Winky failed her master!”

Amidst the loud sobs of the house-elf, Dobby said, “Winky is very unhappy. Dobby has tried, but she keeps drinking.”

“That’s awful!” Hermione said, upset.

“She was sacked in a pretty awful way,” Harry said. “She was happy working for Crouch, and this isn’t what she wanted.” He looked down at Dobby. “He’s the only one getting paid.”

“Professor Dumbledore was most kind!” Dobby chirped eagerly. “He hired Winky and Dobby when we came!”

“This making you reconsider?” Ron asked Hermione. He gestured at the hundred house-elves bustling about quite happily.

“They do look happy,” Hermione admitted reluctantly.

Dobby looked up at Harry. “Would Harry Potter be wanting a cup of tea?”

Harry glanced at Ron. “Ron?”

Ron looked down at Dobby. “Well…we were hoping to celebrate, you see. Harry just passed the first task yesterday!”

“Ron!” Hermione scolded in a shushed whisper.

But Dobby was delighted at being given such a task and immediately began bustling about. In practically no time at all, the trio were weighed down with sweets and pumpkin juice.

“Do you mind if we celebrate down here?” Ron asked, beaming at the spread.

“Yous can celebrate here!” Dobby exclaimed indignantly.

“Brilliant,” Ron said. He shoved a pastry into Harry’s hand and a goblet into Hermione’s. “Let’s go then!”

As they ate, Harry was very thankful that Dobby hadn’t brought up Kreacher at all. No matter how good a liar he’d become, explaining away his own house-elf would be a tough one.

* * *

That night in the Room of Requirement, Harry twirled his wand between his fingers and considered the flickering flames. Severus was watching him silently, and Harry could tell that he wanted to make some sort of snarky comment.

“Hermione’s getting suspicious,” Harry said finally, looking up at Severus. “She waited up for me last night.”

Severus straightened. “What did you tell her?”

“That I can’t tell her. Not at this point anyway.” Harry raised an eyebrow at Severus’s incredulous stare. “Don’t give me that look, Severus. She would’ve jumped to conclusions regardless. At least this way she knows I’ll tell her eventually.”

Severus scowled at being caught so openly. “Were you even planning on telling them?”

“I was…” Harry created a series of flashing lights with his wand. “They’re my friends, you know?”

“No.”

Harry rolled his eyes at Severus’s untruthful reply, but let it go. “They’ve been with me through everything.”

Severus started, “They are not the same—”

“I know!” Harry snapped, unintentionally making a large white flash of light. “Do you think I _don’t_ know they’re not the same? I hope they never are! Hermione was so desperate that she went on a suicide mission. Ron was so torn up it took everything I had to stop him from sacrificing himself like he did back in first year, on Minerva’s chessboard. I don’t _want_ them to be the same.” He shook his head. “But they’re my _friends_. Like you, I trust them. I haven’t told them yet because I don’t want to burden them. But I will…because what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t trust them?”

“The kind who values his own life,” Severus said.

Harry met Severus’s eyes. “If I can’t bring myself to trust anyone, what’s the use of living? It’s a half life to have no one to talk to.”

Severus looked into Harry’s green eyes for a few more seconds before looking away. He knew exactly to what – or who – Harry was referring to.

* * *

The next day in Transfigurations, Minerva stopped the lesson slightly early to make a small announcement. “The Yule Ball is approaching – a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above – although you may invite a younger student if you wish—”

Harry was distracted by a loud giggle from Lavender Brown. Aware that he was being eyed like a piece of meat by Lavender and Parvati, Harry kept his attention focused on Minerva. He wasn’t going to be asking either of the Patil sisters this time.

“Dress robes will be worn,” Minerva was saying, “and the ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then…” She deliberately looked around the classroom. “The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to, er, let our hair down.” Her tone was distinctly disapproving.

Lavender giggled shrilly again. Harry could understand, as Minerva hardly ever did let her hair down. To this day, he could count on one hand the number of times Minerva had let her hair down in the presence of others.

“But that does NOT mean,” Minerva continued, “that we will be relaxing the standard of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way.”

She began eyeing certain members of the class. Though Harry could understand why Ron was included, he failed to understand why he was as well. He had been on his best behavior the whole term. Not having gotten a single detention or fight with Draco was surely a record, wasn’t it? Or did she suspect he was up to something? But that was Slytherin behavior, and he was outwardly a Gryffindor.

Just as he thought that he was maybe reading too much into what must only been a cursory glance, the bell rang.

“Potter, stay behind for a moment,” Minerva called.

Harry packed up his book, aware that Ron and Hermione were lingering at the door for him.

“You two can go along to your next class,” Minerva said briskly to the two. “Potter won’t be long.”

When Harry was alone, Minerva spoke to him. “It is traditional at the Yule Ball for all the champions to open up the festivities with a dance.”

“I have to find a date, you mean?” Harry asked.

Minerva seemed slightly surprised that Harry caught on so quickly. “Precisely, Potter.”

“All right then,” Harry said agreeably. “I can ask anyone I want, right?”

“First years are not advisable,” Minerva said stiffly.

Harry stared for a moment before he realized that she thought he’d be so irresponsible so as to ask an _eleven_ -year-old to a dance for fourth years and up. He couldn’t help the cool tone that entered his voice. “Sorry, Professor. I had a third year in mind.”

And it was true. A certain red-head was in his mind for a potential date. He only hoped that he could ask her.

Harry left Minerva’s classroom after an uncomfortable apology from the professor. He rushed to the North Tower for Divinations, catching up with Ron by the ladder.

“What’d she want?” Ron asked.

“Just to say that the champions have to open the ball with a dance.” Harry began the ascent to the classroom.

“Good luck with that.” Ron came up after him. “Who you going to ask?”

Harry sat down at the back of the classroom and discreetly put up an inconspicuous charm that would make Trelawney go elsewhere when she headed this way. “You first.”

Ron grimaced, dropping his bag with a thump. “I don’t know, mate.”

“Why not Hermione?” Harry suggested.

Ron stared blankly at Harry. “ _Hermione_?”

‘ _Was he always this **dense**?_ ’ Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. “You _have_ noticed that she’s a girl, right? If you’re not careful, someone like Krum might ask her.”

Ron sounded even more incredulous now. “ _Krum_?”

“I’ve seen him look at her,” Harry said not untruthfully. Whether it had been in this timeline or in the future was unimportant. “He’s been hanging out in the library, too. She _is_ pretty, Ron. Haven’t you noticed that she got her teeth fixed by Pomfrey?”

A pensive look crossed Ron’s face. He was oblivious to the fact that class had already started. “You’re right,” he said slowly. “You think I should?”

“You like her, don’t you?” Harry asked. “And I mean as in _more_ than a friend. Why not ask her and see how it goes?”

Ron swallowed, looking down at the purple table cloth. “You think so?”

“I do,” Harry said firmly. “Just remember…be nice and thoughtful. Don’t go putting your foot in your mouth the way you usually do.”

Ron looked insulted that he would even do such a thing. “Who are _you_ asking?”

Harry’s mouth went dry at this question. He would have to play his cards right for this to work. “I wanted to ask you. Would you mind…if I asked…your sister?”

Instead of looking enraged, Ron was mystified. “ _Ginny_? Why her?”

Harry resisted the urge to wipe his hands on his robe. “There you go, putting your foot in your mouth. Hermione would take that as an insult. Why _wouldn’t_ I ask Ginny? Or is there another sister I don’t know about? George, perhaps?”

Ron winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just…why ask Ginny?”

“I _like_ her, Ron,” Harry said, understating the truth. “Look…would you mind?”

“She’s fancied you for a long while, you know,” Ron said in a low voice. “Are you serious about this?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then you can,” Ron said, nodding. “But if you hurt her—”

“I give you my permission to castrate me,” Harry said, relieved. That had gone much better than he’d ever anticipated. “Thanks, Ron.”

Looking toward the front, where Trelawney was lecturing about dreams, Harry wondered if he shouldn’t just leave the charm up for good.

* * *

This was pedophiliac. He was a pedophile and a pervert. Here he was, a thirty-year-old, going after a witch only thirteen years old and asking her to accompany him to a ball.

‘ _This is sick,_ ’ Harry thought, feeling nauseous. ‘ _I’m mentally thirty years old. She’s **thirteen**. How the bloody hell will this ever work out?_ ’

What was worse was that this age difference would always exist. He would always have a mental difference with anyone his physical age. With all he’d seen, there was no way he could relate to anyone at this point unless they were about Severus’s age or older.

‘ _But I can ask, can’t I?_ ’ He was uncomfortably aware that he was causing a scene in the library by standing there so indecisively as he watched his former (future) girlfriend chat with Luna. ‘ _There’s no harm in asking. It’s not like she knows I’m technically older…mentally…_ ’

Besides, it wasn’t as if he was planning on anything other than a simple, platonic date to the Yule Ball.

Taking a deep breath, Harry screwed up his Gryffindor courage and walked up behind Ginny. He knew she’d seen him standing there like an idiot but had been too polite to say anything.

“Err…” Brilliant. His tongue failed him _now_ of all times? “Ginny…”

Ginny turned to him with a smile. “Yes, Harry?”

The sight took Harry’s breath away, and he was forcefully transported to an earlier time. A time he had repressed.

_“Yes, Harry?” Ginny had turned to him with that achingly soft smile that took his breath away._

_Harry swallowed thickly. “Be careful,” he whispered. “I don’t know what—”_

_“Shh,” she murmured, placing a finger on his lips. “I’ll be careful, Harry. I always am.”_

_“Just come back,” Harry said, brushing his lips against her finger._

_Ginny smiled again, sadly this time. “I will.”_

_After Ginny left on her supply run, Harry forced himself to do something productive. Yet as the hours passed, his silent agony grew._

_“She can take care of herself, Harry,” Ron whispered as his friend made yet another round of the campsite._

_“I know she can,” Harry said, sitting down. He couldn’t stop moving, though, and he ran his hands up and down his legs. “That’s not the question. We can **all** take care of ourselves. The problem is being outnumbered.”_

_“This coming from the bloke who can Disarm a dozen wizards with one spell,” Ron muttered._

_Harry ignored his friend’s bad temper, thankful Ron was even talking at all. He continued bouncing his legs up and down, feeling **something** hum at the back of his head._

_‘ **Something’s wrong. She should’ve already been back by now.** ’_

_A figure robed in black stepped by his side. Harry didn’t glance up at Severus. He was fingering his wand grip now._

_“She should have been back by now,” Severus murmured, giving voice to Harry’s silent worry._

_“I know…” Harry had wrapped his hands around his wand so tightly his knuckles were white._

_A hand covered his shoulder, and Harry looked up to meet Severus’s dark eyes._

_“It could be nothing,” Severus said softly. “She could have been delayed.”_

_“She could have,” Harry said doubtfully._

_“I should’ve gone,” Ron muttered darkly._

_“No, you shouldn’t have!” Harry said sharply, glaring at Ron. “Do you remember what happened last time?”_

_“I **planned** it!” Ron snapped._

_“That’s the **point**! Who plans to almost be **killed**?”_

_Ron’s face closed off. “That wasn’t it,” he murmured, sounding defeated. “That wasn’t it at all…”_

_Aware of Severus, who was standing silently by his side, Harry kept his voice gentle. “Then what, Ron?”_

_“Nothing,” Ron said abruptly, deliberately looking away. “Nothing at all.”_

_“I miss her, too,” Harry said quietly. “But, Ron…I can’t…I can’t do this without you.”_

_Ron didn’t say anything, simply staring off into the distance._

_Harry opened his mouth, intending to say something else, when there was a twinge at the back of his head: the wards. He snapped his head around, alerting Severus to the problem._

_“What is it?” he asked in a low voice._

_“Something’s trying to breach the wards.” Harry was scanning the area where the disturbance was localized. “It can’t be Ginny… She knows how to get past.”_

_“But your wards are undetectable,” Ron said, standing up. “How the hell did that person find them?”_

_“Someone told him,” Severus said grimly._

_With a sudden nauseating feeling, Harry knew it had been Ginny. She was the only one outside of the wards. Legilimized by Voldemort, she wouldn’t have had any choice but to give up their location. Her Occlumency wasn’t anywhere near good enough to ward off the Dark Lord’s attacks._

_There was loud crackling from outside the wards as the unknown wizard attacked._

_Ron snorted. “Ruddy idiot. Can’t get anywhere if you’re pounding like that.”_

_“Perhaps he isn’t trying to,” Severus said slowly. “Perhaps he is simply trying to get our attention.”_

_“He got it,” Harry said. He glanced back at the tent, where the rest of the group was huddled. “We’ll have to go and take care of it. There’s only one there.”_

_“Just one? No one else?”Severus asked._

_Harry knew what he was asking: was Ginny there? But she wasn’t; there was only one magical signature, and it was reeking of the undead._

_“No one else,” Harry confirmed. He stepped forward. “Ron, watch the tent. This might still be an ambush. Severus, watch my back.”_

_Ron backed up towards the tent while Severus remained behind Harry as he approached the end of the wards. Taking a deep breath, Harry blanked his face and stepped through the protective enchantments, becoming visible to anyone on the outside. Close on his heels was Severus, although the Potions master remained behind the wards._

_The person attacking the wards dropped the Disillusionment spell, revealing himself to be Amycus Carrow. The man was carrying a dirty sack that was holding something bulky._

_“Carrow,” Harry said shortly._

_“Potter,” Carrow said in kind, grinning. “How kind of you to greet me.”_

_“It’s difficult to ignore someone knocking on the front door,” Harry said pleasantly, his eyes steely._

_“How else to get your attention?”Carrow dropped the sack on the ground. Harry thought he heard a wet squelch._

_He refocused on Carrow. “You could go and burn in hell,” he said coolly. “And tell your master to do the same.”_

_Carrow narrowed his eyes. “Now, I really can’t do that,” he replied amiably. “Who would give you this then?”_

_With a flick of his wand, Carrow upended the sack and dumped its contents._

_Harry’s world tilted dangerously, all his attention focused on the body lying on the ground. He could hear nothing beyond the thundering of his heart in his ears and a roaring rage that drowned out the other prevalent emotion that was threatening to take him over._

_But he couldn’t… He **couldn’t**._

_If he did, he’d curl up into a ball and be useless._

_But it was **so** tempting._

_For staining the ground with a vivid crimson red was the bare body of Ginevra Weasley. Her hips were black and blue and her chest completely slashed open. Her mouth was unmarred, but her eyes gone, having been gouged out._

_Carrow was smirking at the ashen color of Harry’s face. “You chose a good bint, Potter. Feisty in school and out. She really knew how to **scream** , you know?”_

_A roaring noise grew in his ears. “ **You** did this?” His voice was strangely quiet._

_Carrow grinned wider. “A beautiful reward. Or at least **was** … She was feisty—”_

_Red flashed across his vision. A split-second later his wand snapped out in an arc and slashed open Carrow’s chest in mimicry of Ginny’s. It cut the Death Eater off mid-word._

_“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Harry said through gritted teeth. “You might be undead, but you still feel. And trust me…you’re going to feel **every. Single. Little. Slash. Of. Pain**.” He punctuated his word with another jab of his wand, digging into Carrow’s body like a knife._

_Flinching at the repeated stabs, Carrow’s eyes had widened in fear and pain at the dangerous note in Harry’s tone. But his wand had barely lifted when Harry struck again._

_This curse struck at Carrow’s prostate and ripped through his muscles and bones, forcing a pained scream from the Death Eater’s mouth._

_“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Harry was yelling now. “Doesn’t seem so fun anymore, does it? **Does it, Carrow**? **ANSWER ME**!” He slashed his wand diagonally through the air in a vicious stroke, gouging out Carrow’s eyes._

_Carrow had dropped his wand and was clutching his ruined eyes._

_“Answer me, you bastard!” Harry screamed, slashing his wand down._

_A sound like a whip cracked through the air. Carrow’s head snapped back and there was a sickly cracking noise._

_Panting, Harry stopped moving his wand to stare at the ruined Death Eater. He was aware of Severus barely breathing behind him._

_But none of that mattered._

_Eyes fixated on the prone and mutilated visage of his beloved girlfriend, Harry strode over and picked Ginny up. Then, dismissively turning his back on Carrow, Harry brought her to Severus._

_“Take her,” he directed quietly, tonelessly._

_Saying nothing, Severus took Ginny from him and retreated, leaving Harry with Carrow._

_Harry kept his back to Carrow. “What does Tom say about me?” he asked quietly, fingering his wand. “Does he say that I’m merciful? That I’m weak? That I won’t harm those I fight?”_

_There was no answer forthcoming but Harry hadn’t expected one. Turning slowly, he continued speaking, “I might have been merciful once. I might have been weak at one point as well. But feeling how you feel now…what do you think I am? What do you think I’ve **done**?”_

_Carrow said nothing, hands still clutching his face._

_Harry’s voice was so low that one would have had to strain one’s ears to hear. “For those who harm the ones I love…there is no mercy.”_

_Finally, Carrow spoke. “Please—”_

_Harry struck, a pillar of magical flames erupting from his wand. The flaming beast flared into a roaring phoenix and swept towards the fallen Death Eater. The powerful Fiendfyre consumed the earth and devoured the screaming man._

_With a final downward sweep of his wand and a circular twist, Harry drew the flames back into his wand with a whoosh, leaving not even ashes behind. Only the blackened earth bore testimony to the violence that had occurred._

Slamming the memory into an iron casket, Harry snapped back to the present with a pounding heart. Ginny was staring at him concernedly.

“Are you all right, Harry?” she asked.

Before Harry could wet his mouth enough to speak, Luna spoke.”She’ll say yes, Harry. She likes you, you know.”

Ginny flushed red. “Luna!”

Despite himself, Harry flushed, too. “Err…thanks, Luna.”

“Are you going to ask her?” Luna inquired. “Or have the Wrackspurts latched onto you?”

“No Wrackspurts,” Harry managed to say. “Just…” How was it that no matter how old he was that talking to Ginny always made him tongue-tied? “Ginny…would you…go to the ball with me?”

There. The question had been asked.

Ginny blushed a brilliant scarlet at the question. “Really, Harry?”

His tongue was working for this. “I don’t see anyone else I’m asking,” he said.

Ginny smiled broadly. “Then yes. Yes, I will.”

Harry smiled as well, happy despite his earlier doubts and the memory he had been sucked into. “Brilliant.”

* * *

“I don’t know, Harry,” Ron muttered, looking slightly ill. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Yeah…I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Harry said, amused. “You’ll ask her tonight.”

Ron shot him an aggrieved look. “And I suppose you already asked Ginny?”

“In the library,” Harry responded cheerfully.

“What did she say?”

“Yes, of course,” Harry said.

Ron choked. “‘Yes, _of course_ ’?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I was joking, Ron. I was nervous like hell. Almost didn’t ask her.” He nudged his friend’s shoulder. “Since I made it, it’s your turn now.”

“It can’t wait for tomorrow?” Ron shifted nervously.

Hermione sat in the seat before them, startling Ron so badly he upended his ink canister. “What can’t wait? Oh, Ron… _Scourgify_.” When the ink had vanished from Ron’s parchment and his robes, she continued, “That essay from McGonagall is _due_ tomorrow. Please don’t tell me you haven’t finished it!”

“Finished it last week,” Harry said.

“ _When_?”Ron asked incredulously. “I don’t see you doing any schoolwork anymore!”

“The library,” Harry said, aware of the look Hermione was sending his way. “Ron…didn’t you want to ask Hermione something?”

“Ask me what?” Hermione demanded. “If it’s help on that essay, I’ll read it but won’t do more than that! You had over a week to do it—”

“It’s not homework, Hermione!” Ron said, sounding strangled. “It’s…” He took a deep breath to fortify himself. “Wouldyougototheballwithme?” The question was one long garbled mess that even Harry couldn’t make head or tail of.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think I understood that.”

“The ball!” Ron sounded desperate. “Would you…you know…go with me?”

Hermione looked both startled and pleased. A light red suffused her cheeks. “Are you asking _me_?”

“I’m not asking Harry,” Ron grumbled, his ears a red to match his hair.

“Oh, well…” Hermione stammered.

Ron seemed absolutely tortured.

“Yes, I’ll go!” Hermione said, beaming.

Ron didn’t seem to believe his ears. “You…you said yes?”

“Yes, you great prat. I said yes!” Hermione had a fond look on her face.

Harry couldn’t stop the smile from crossing his face. It caught Hermione’s attention and she fixed her brown eyes on him.

“I meant to ask, Harry,” she said, “what did McGonagall want?”

“Just to tell me that the champions have the opening dance of the ball.”

Hermione straightened in attention. “Doesn’t that mean that you need a date? Do you know who you’re asking?”

“Harry already asked someone,” Ron said, sounding a little peeved at being forced to ask so early.

Hermione seemed surprised. “You already did? But we just learned about the ball today!”

Ron gave a pointed cough. “ _I_ asked you today.”

“Well, yes, but…Harry’s different…” Hermione’s voice trailed off.

“Shyer, you mean?” Harry suggested dryly. “I didn’t ask my date in public.”

“Who is it?” Hermione asked.

Aware that most of the room was listening in on their conversation, Harry decided to have a little bit of fun. He mentally debated as to whether he should sound a little lovesick but decided that might be laying it on a bit thick. Thus, with a completely straight face, he said, “Draco.”

Ron gave a cough that sounded oddly like a laugh while Hermione’s eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. There was a thud elsewhere that suggested some shocked Gryffindor had dropped something.

“Draco, Harry?” Hermione asked uncertainly. “As in…Draco _Malfoy_?”

“I don’t know many other Malfoys in Hogwarts,” Harry said, putting the appropriate amount of confusion in his tone.

A glint of suspicion entered Hermione’s eyes. “You’re not having us on, are you, Harry?”

“What makes you think I’d joke about something like this?” Harry made sure to sound insulted, though he was having a tough time keeping his face straight. “I’ve never known a man like him before!”

Then, very deliberately and glad that his back was facing the common room, Harry mouthed, “ _Play along._ ”

Ron promptly did so with great enthusiasm. “That squirmy ferret?! Harry, why’d you ask _him_? He hates us! He insults you every chance he gets!”

“He doesn’t hate me!” Harry protested indignantly. “It’s just his way of professing his undying love!”

There was another distinct thudding sound.

“Are you sure you’re not imagining things, Harry?” Hermione asked anxiously.

“I asked him!”

“But…he’s a… _boy_.”

“Who are we talking about here?” Harry raised an eyebrow, uncomfortably aware that this was how his thoughts had been running prior to asking Ginny. “One of the first-years?”

“You’re fourteen!” Ron said, his eyes gleaming with wicked humor.

“So’s he!”

Someone choked in the distance.

“He’s a squirmy ferret!” Ron argued.

“How do you know that? For all you know, he could really be a swan!”

There was another distinct choking noise, accompanied by another thud.

“All we’re saying, Harry,” Hermione broke in, placing a hand on Ron’s arm, “is that we’re…concerned.” That was a nice touch on her part. “Did you really ask him?”

Harry scowled and stood up. “I like him!” he proclaimed dramatically. “And he likes me, too!”

Ron jumped up. “He’s only playing you, Harry! He’s a filthy Slytherin!”

“Playing, is he?” Harry demanded furiously. “I’ll show you lot!”

He gave his friends a quick wink and stormed through the common room to exit the portrait, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

Smirking wickedly, Harry figured that this joke would make up for not putting this Severus in a tutu.

* * *

The next day the rumor that Harry Potter was taking Draco Malfoy (or the other way around) to the Yule Ball was all over Hogwarts. Harry was aware of stares and whispers as he sat down to breakfast by his friends.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Harry,” Hermione whispered as he reached for a plate of toast. “He looks absolutely furious.”

“Does he?” Harry snuck a glance at the Slytherin table and saw that Draco did indeed have a very black expression on his face. “Hmm…he does.”

“Half the House believes you, mate,” Ron said in a low voice. “The rest thinks he’s got you cursed or that you ate something bad.”

“Who _did_ you ask anyway, Harry?” Hermione asked curiously.

“Tell you later,” Harry promised, looking up as the owls swooped in to deliver their post. “Ooh, brilliant.”

Hedwig swept in on her majestic wings, bearing a rolled up piece of parchment.

Hermione and Ron leaned forward expectantly, but Hedwig didn’t fly towards Harry, instead winging her way to the Slytherin table.

“You didn’t!” Hermione gasped, staring at him in shock.

“He did,” Ron moaned, seeing Hedwig land in front of the silver-haired Slytherin. “He’s going to kill us…”

The entire Great Hall had hushed upon seeing Harry Potter’s owl approach Draco Malfoy, his archenemy. She held out her claw insistently, ignoring the incredulous look Draco was shooting her.

The insistent hoot of Hedwig echoed throughout the entire hall as she clicked her beak impatiently at Draco. Finally, Draco took the rolled up parchment, looking incredulous when Hedwig snatched up a piece of bacon from his plate before swooping up into the air.

Everyone stared expectantly at Draco, though he simply dropped the parchment on the table as if it would poison him.

Harry had anticipated that his friend would do such a thing. Thus, the parchment fluttered into the air the moment it touched the table top and unrolled itself with a flourish, dropping a red rose onto a horrified Draco’s plate.

Ron gave a quiet whimper even as he continued watching. Hermione’s eyes were as wide as an owl’s and she didn’t seem to be breathing. The rest of Gryffindor table, like the other tables, was alternating glances between Harry, who kept a carefully neutral face, and Draco, whose face had turned from horror to an impassive mask that most of the school recognized.

To the rest of the Slytherin table, the parchment bore a flowery invitation to the ball. To Draco’s eyes only, it bore two words and a signature: _Play along. H.P._

Harry had no desire to risk his fledgling relationship with Draco. At least this way the blonde was somewhat forewarned and could retaliate if he so wished.

At the Slytherin table, Draco stared at the note for a long moment. Then, finally, he pulled his wand out and incinerated the invitation. For extra measure, the rose went up in smoke as well.

Ron winced as the tendrils of smoke rose. “Ouch, Harry.”

Harry sighed for good measure. “I suppose I should have signed the note,” he whispered. “But it’s good to know he’s loyal.”

A first-year Gryffindor who’d just taken a sip of juice promptly spit it back out upon hearing Harry, spraying Lee.

Lee shot the first year a glare, but didn’t say anything as Draco had left the Slytherin table and was sweeping towards the Gryffindor table. His face was a dark mask as he approached Harry.

“Potter.” His voice was a dark growl.

Harry blinked innocently, making sure his tone had the appropriate amount of confusion in it. “What’s the matter, Draco?”

“What was the meaning of that?” Draco demanded.

“Hedwig, Draco?”

Draco glared at Harry. “You know exactly what I’m talking about!”

“What’d I do?”

The Slytherin turned slightly pink at the question, though his jaw tightened. “That… _letter_ , Potter.”

Harry frowned. “It was just a letter, wasn’t it? Nothing untoward in it?”

Before Draco could press the matter any further, Minerva joined them. “Is something the matter, Malfoy?”

Draco’s gray eyes flickered back and forth between Minerva and Harry before taking in the rest of the silent Great Hall. “Nothing, Professor.”

Just when it seemed like the matter would be cleared up without any further problems, Severus swept down the aisle, his sallow face a blank mask. “Is there a problem, Malfoy?”

Harry saw Ron frown angrily and discreetly kicked his friend in the ankles before the redhead could do anything. He didn’t think Draco would do anything considering he had just told Minerva nothing was wrong.

“No, sir,” Draco denied, looking distinctly nervous.

Severus took a second to glance from Draco to Harry before mildly saying, “Detention, Potter.”

This time even Harry kicking Ron in the ankles couldn’t shut the Weasley up. “What? Why?”

Even Minerva looked slightly scandalized. “You had better have a good reason, Severus.”

“He is wearing an inappropriate uniform.”

Harry looked down at his robes, which was the standard Hogwarts uniform, and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s untidy,” Severus said matter-of-factly. Harry swore he saw a gleam of humor in the man’s eyes.

The only part of Harry’s outfit that even remotely resembled untidy was his tie. If Severus was stooping so low, he really must be desperate.

Judging from Minerva’s skeptically raised eyebrow, she wasn’t really buying Severus’s excuse. But since Harry’s tie _was_ slightly untidy, she let it go with a small “humph” and a glare in Severus’s direction. Draco was looking slightly confused at his professor’s unusually weak excuse for hauling Harry into detention – never mind that Severus had brought Harry in on less before.

When the two teachers and Draco had departed, most of Gryffindor was staring sympathetically in Harry’s direction.

“Sucks, Harry!” Seamus sympathized.

Harry offered a shrug and pulled off his tie. After inspecting it, he crumpled it up into a small little ball, eliciting a round of shocked gasps.

Hermione was resigned. “You’d better know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I am,” Harry asserted, unrolling the now entirely crumpled tie. He put it back on and stood up. “I’m headed off to Hagrid’s class. You with me?”

* * *

An amused voice broke in on Harry’s reading. “So have I been dumped for Malfoy?”

Harry looked up from his Runes book to see Ginny smiling at him. His heart stuttered a bit, and he checked the chest he’d slammed the memory in: it was locked tight.

“What do you think?” Harry asked lightly, closing the book.

Ginny sat down. “Methinks someone is playing a prank.”

Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Methinks that someone is bold.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Methinks that someone is sitting right in front of me.”

Harry gave a short laugh and gave up all pretense of being innocent. “All right… So I made up a lie last night. I just wanted to teach them all a lesson for eavesdropping.”

“Pranking Malfoy… I don’t think even the twins have ever been as bold as you have.” She glanced pointedly at Harry’s very sorry looking tie. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“He wants crumpled, I’ll give him crumpled,” Harry said amiably. “I don’t have Potions today anyway.”

“And a good thing, too! You don’t need more trouble on your hands!” Hermione’s voice said reprovingly. She sat down by them, dumping her Arithmancy books on the table. “And for your information, Malfoy has been terrorizing the first years. I hope you’re proud of yourself, Harry.”

Harry gave a shrug, not feeling regretful at all. ‘ _That’s Draco, all right._ ’

Giving it up for a lost cause, Hermione focused on something else, looking at both Harry and Ginny and raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect to see you two sitting together.”

Harry smiled. “Hermione, meet my date.”

Hermione was silent for a long moment, looking back and forth between the two. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“No. I asked George, who is secretly Ron’s other sister,” Harry said sarcastically.

“He wears pink,” Ginny offered.

“Come off it!” Hermione snapped, blushing. “I didn’t mean it like that! I really am happy that you two are going together.”

“And I’m glad that my prat of my brother asked you,” Ginny replied cheerfully.

“Where is Ron anyway?” Hermione asked, looking around.

“Kitchens,” Harry said. “He was hungry.”

“Honestly,” Hermione muttered. “Can he think about anything other than food?”

“You can still change your mind,” Ginny said.

Hermione was shaking her head. “It’s Ron.” She looked at Harry. “Have you gotten McGonagall’s homework straight? I don’t think I quite got the last part right…the theory on Transfiguring animals?”

“That’s it,” Harry confirmed. The completed essay was sitting at the bottom of his bag.

“Have you gotten started on it already?” Hermione peered at Harry’s book, which looked like a Transfigurations textbook to her.

“Preliminary reading,” Harry lied. “You?”

Hermione shot her Arithmancy book a look. “I’ll start on it tonight.”

“Get started on Ron, too,” Ginny said. “He’ll put it off till the last minute.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started on that.” She shot Harry a look. “You really should take care of that tie, Harry.”

Harry flicked it at her. “I’ll do it before detention.”

But as Harry went for his detention, his tie was still as crumpled as it had been since breakfast.

Severus raised an eyebrow at seeing it. “Very tidy, Potter,” he said dryly.

“Thank you,” Harry said cheerily. “Have a nice day?”

Severus shot Harry a glare. “The rumor, Potter?”

Harry shrugged and took a seat on a desk. He blocked the hex the professor sent his way. “They were eavesdropping. I decided to play a prank.”

“A _prank_?”Severus sent a Stinging Hex that he had to block a moment later as Harry turned it back.

“Draco can have his own fun,” Harry pointed out. He shot a Jelly-Legs Jinx. “I don’t think he’ll do much, though.”

Severus scowled, raising a shield. “What were you thinking this morning?”

“It gave you an excuse, didn’t it?” Harry asked. “I thought you were better than that, though. Was my untidy tie the only thing you could think of?”

“Unlike your previous interactions with Malfoy, you weren’t actually _doing_ anything.” The remark was punctuated by a vicious curse.

Harry used a chair to block and jumped off the desk. “You should be happy that we’ve sorted out our differences.” He redirected another nasty curse that would have taken his tongue off. “If we’re not sticking with low-level spells, we should take this elsewhere.”

Scowling at the fact that he couldn’t seem to ruffle Harry’s feathers, Severus aimed a Color-Changing Charm at Harry’s hair, only to find that he had to duck a Cheering Charm a split-second later.

* * *

The next day during his free period Harry sought Draco out, finding him in the Owlery.

Draco didn’t say anything to Harry. He continued to watch the horizon, having sent his owl off shortly before.

Harry waited patiently, stroking Hedwig as he did. What he had to ask of Draco wasn’t that important.

“You’ve some guts, Potter,” Draco said finally.

Harry looked up from Hedwig’s feathers, only to find himself still staring at the back of Draco’s head. “I’m sorry?”

Draco turned slightly. “You know what I’m talking about. Pranking me like that in the middle of the Great Hall…You’ve got some guts. Either that or you’re incredibly stupid and looking to die.”

“Neither,” Harry said easily, ignoring the confused look Draco shot him. “How’s it going?”

Draco folded his arms. “You’re not fooling me with that innocent act, Potter. You’re just as Slytherin as I am.”

Harry was silent for a moment longer, letting Hedwig fly back up to the rafters. Then he turned fully to the blonde Slytherin. “Do you recall the offer you made me before?”

Draco stiffened imperceptibly. “What of it?”

“I’m calling it in,” Harry said.

When Harry didn’t immediately continue, Draco snapped, “Well? What do you want?”

Harry smiled broadly. “I want you to teach me how to dance.”

When Draco gaped at him, Harry knew that this had been the right choice. Plus, it wasn’t often he got to see the Malfoy heir this gobsmacked.

* * *

**January 20, 2003**

“ _Salvio Hexia_ … _Repello Muggletum…_ ” Harry was twisting his wand through the air, raising the wards they needed to protect the campsite. He had become rather good at raising these particular wards thanks to sheer practice, but they were still only the basic ones.

Luckily for their group, Bill had made his way back into England some time ago, needing to help what remained of his family. None of them had been happy with Bill’s decision as he had been safer outside of Britain, but it was too late to do anything about it now. Besides, a Weasley was a Weasley, and there was nothing that would prevent a Weasley from helping their family if they could manage it.

Harry was almost done putting up the wards when Bill joined him. “I think it’s about time you learned the more advanced wards I’ve been putting up,” the older Weasley murmured.

“You think I’m ready for that?”

“You’ve been ready since that first day. With your talent, all you need to do is check how strong they are and adjust accordingly. Most warders don’t have that ability. They learn by feel and trial and error.”

“All right then,” Harry agreed, dropping his wand and stepping back slightly.

Bill shook his head. “You’ve seen me put them up often enough. Try it first and I’ll tell you where you still need to improve.”

Uncertainly sending Bill a glance, Harry stepped forward again and raised his wand. He had no idea what incantations Bill had used since the wizard had always muttered it but he knew how the magic felt. Thus, he worked on recreating that feeling and pushing it out through his wand and over the campsite.

It was more tiring than he’d expected to take that extra step without knowing the incantation. When he finally finished, Harry’s hand was shaking and his head felt like cotton.

“Good job,” Bill approved, moving his wand through the air. “I’m surprised you managed it without the spells.”

“Just went with the feeling,” Harry muttered, blinking rapidly.

“I’ll fill you in on the spells when you’ve rested,” Bill said, turning Harry around towards the tent. “I’m just going to add another layering on top of this.”

Shakily, Harry walked back to the tent and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just been put through another test.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are eventually going to reach the end of the flashbacks. If you don't want to read them, don't. But they will be around for a few more chapters. Also, if you want to prod me for updates or check on me, I have a [tumblr](http://inukagome15.tumblr.com) now. It's not really Harry Potter focused, so you don't have to follow me.
> 
> But again, I can't promise a quick update with this one since I don't have the rest of the story written. Once I do, then it's something else.


	13. Happy Christmas, Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, I'm not even going to make any excuses... I haven't written anything in this for some years, but that doesn't mean it's abandoned. I'll be coming back to this and finishing it, because I _do_ want to finish this.
> 
> I think there's one more chapter before the writing style will change, since this is everything I wrote a few years ago.
> 
> To those who are still reading, I hope you enjoy! I'm glad you guys liked the last chapter. This one doesn't have any flashbacks so it's shorter, and that's because it's all about Christmas. Which is weird because it's March, but well...
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**December 15, 1994**

“Watch your step, Potter; you almost stepped on my toes.” Draco grimaced as Harry did step on his toes then. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you stepped on them on purpose there.”

Mentally counting and listening with half an ear to the music playing in the classroom, Harry gave Draco a little twirl and then continued dancing. “Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t. Dancing isn’t as easy as some would make us believe.”

“Perhaps you’re just ridiculously clumsy, Potter.”

Harry led Draco through the last steps of the dance and drew apart as the music died down.

Draco let go of his hands and took another step back. “Not bad, Potter. Perhaps now your date will no longer fear for her feet.”

Harry smirked, recognizing the praise for what it was. “For someone who just insulted my sense of balance not two minutes ago, you change your mind quickly. I’ll be sure to tell my date you said so.”

Draco glared and gave his wand a flick, turning off the record player as it started to play the next song. “Who are you going with?”

Harry shot him a grin. “How do you know I’m  _not_  going with you?”

Draco grimaced. “Even if I did bend that way, I’m not attracted to you, Potter. I’d never say yes.”

Giving a shrug, Harry said indifferently, “Fair enough. No worries, though, Draco; you’ll find out at the Yule Ball.”

“See if I will,” Draco said, beginning to pack up the record player.

“Oh you will,” Harry said easily, picking up his book bag and turning away. “I have the opening dance of the ball after all.”

Hearing Draco almost drop the record player was worth the hex shot at his back in the next moment.

* * *

Ron was the only one sitting by the fire in the common room when Harry joined him. Hermione was apparently still in the library.

“Hermione sent me out,” Ron told Harry in disgust. “There were too many girls giggling over Krum.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the resentful note in Ron’s tone. “What do you have against Krum?”

“He’s been hanging around the area where Hermione’s sitting,” Ron explained in a low voice. “He’s going to ask her, I know he is.”

Harry didn’t see the point. “She already told you yes, didn’t she?”

“It’s  _Krum_ , Harry,” Ron moaned, looking ill. “Who’s to say she won’t dump me and go with him?”

Giving a brief curse for not understanding immediately, Harry began to assuage his friend’s worries. “First of all, Ron, this is  _Hermione_  we’re talking about. She won’t just dump you and go with some Quidditch bloke she couldn’t give two hoots about. Second, she probably  _will_  dump you if you go and say that in her hearing.”

Ron blanched upon hearing Harry. “Not to worry,” he croaked, his voice deadly quiet. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“She  _likes_  that about you, you know,” Harry said, leaning closer to him. “That includes your mouth. And I don’t mean that in a dirty way. All she wants is a little sensitivity.”

Ron looked up at Harry. “You really think so?”

Harry started slightly at the insecure note in Ron’s tone. “Of course I do. Why?”

Ron offered a half shrug, looking away. “I just thought she might…you know…go for  _you_.”

“ _Me_?”

Ron shot Harry an irritated look. “Come on, Harry… You’re smart, brilliant, good-looking, famous—”

“My fame can go sod itself,” Harry said fiercely. “All those things you said about me? The same goes for you.” When Ron gave an incredulous snort, he persisted, “It’s true. You’re absolutely brilliant at chess. Do you have any idea how well that applies to real life? And you  _are_ good-looking.”

Though Ron was still eyeing Harry in disbelief, nothing more could be said as Neville sat across from them, face flushed.

Harry recognized the signs of someone in distress. “Neville, you all right?”

Neville looked at him. “Is it true, Harry?” he whispered. “Are you…are you really going with Ginny to the ball?”

“You still don’t have a date?” Ron asked, surprised.

Neville looked absolutely miserable. “I asked Ginny…”

Who had Neville gone with last time? Harry remembered that it had been someone with red hair… Ginny had looked stunning that night.

“Bad luck, Neville,” Ron said sympathetically.

“I know,” Neville said miserably.

“What about Parvati or Lavender?” Ron suggested.

Neville looked so uncomfortable that Harry had to say something. “Are they too girly for you?”

Neville nodded slowly while Ron cried indignantly, “My sister’s a girl, too, if you hadn’t noticed!”

“She’s not as giggly or prone to fits of sensitivity,” Harry said hastily, realizing he’d come across the wrong way. “Hermione’s the same way. They’re both girls, but they don’t see eye to eye with the others because they’re different.”

“I see,” Ron said, mollified. “But, Neville, you haven’t asked anyone else?”

“I don’t  _know_  anyone else!” Neville wailed.

“You’ve been here four years,” Harry said incredulously. “You must know  _someone_. Have you thought of asking someone on the Quidditch team?”

“They’ve all found dates,” Ron said. “I think Fred asked Angelina the other night. Katie was asked by George… Have you figured out who they’re writing to by any chance?”

“No,” Harry said, knowing full well it was Ludo Bagman. “It’s probably something to do with their joke shop. Neville, have you tried asking anyone younger? Or from a different House?”

“Yeah,” Ron agreed. “Maybe one of those Beauxbatons girls…”

“I heard that that Fleur girl’s already going with someone from Hogwarts,” Neville said. “I don’t really know anyone else, Harry.”

Sighing, Harry sat back as Ron tried to convince Neville to ask a Beauxbatons girl to the ball. He would have suggested Hannah Abbot since she and Neville had gotten along so swimmingly in the future, but he’d heard she already had a date.

All the other girls in Hogwarts would either make Neville too uncomfortable, were unfamiliar to him, or had been taken…

Except for one since she was considered too strange.

“What about Luna Lovegood?” Harry asked, cutting Ron off mid-word.

Ron and Neville stared at Harry blankly.

“Luna Lovegood?” Ron repeated.

“That girl Ginny studies with?” Neville guessed.

“Third-year Ravenclaw,” Harry said, thinking that Luna would be good for Neville at this point. “Lots think her strange, but she’s really nice. She’ll talk about exotic creatures no one’s ever heard of, but it’s really interesting. Why don’t you ask her?”

“I’ve heard that people call her  _Loony_ ,” Neville whispered. “Are you sure, Harry?”

A surge of anger shot through Harry upon hearing the cruel nickname, but he forced himself to reply calmly. “Absolutely. Don’t believe everything you hear or read. If you did, you’d know I was really a sarcastic grief-stricken teenager who’s in over his head.”

“You’re not still peeved about that article that Skeeter woman wrote, are you?” Ron asked. “It’s been over a month!”

“You’d be peeved, too,” Harry said, remembering that he’d burned the article with satisfaction after reading it. “That second one made me out to be some sort of freak! She could at least get her facts  _straight_.”

“Yeah… You didn’t do a loop-de-loop around the dragon’s head,” Ron said, amused.

“Whatever the case,” Harry said, glaring at his friend, “you can ask Luna, Neville. She’ll be thrilled.”

Neville still seemed uncertain but he agreed. When he left, presumably to ask Luna, Ron exhaled gustily and looked at Harry. “Where do you find these girls?”

Harry shrugged and pushed Ron’s textbook towards him. “I know people. Now, finish that essay before I go down to detention.”

* * *

When Harry wandered through the halls to the seventh floor for his “detention” with Severus (which he’d received by apparently causing a Slytherin to trip over his robes; Severus was getting creative with his excuses), he didn’t expect anyone else to be around.

So when a dreamy voice spoke from behind him, he whirled around with his wand in hand before he could think. His wand was pointed directly at Luna, who hadn’t reacted beyond blinking.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said, meeting Harry’s eyes.

It was the same thing she’d said before he pulled a wand on her so clearly she didn’t mean his reflexive reaction. “Do what?”

“Tell Neville to ask me. It was nice of you, but you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Harry said, wondering how she had found out. “So he asked after all?”

“I said yes,” Luna said. “He seemed rather surprised to tell you the truth. The Wrackspurts have latched onto him rather badly, haven’t they?”

“Err…suppose so.” Harry refrained from checking his watch.

“You’ve got a terrible infestation of the Time Tigglers,” Luna continued conversationally.

Harry froze, blinking rapidly. “The what?”

“Time Tigglers. They infest those who have traveled through time,” Luna said. “I’ve always wondered what it’s like to travel through time.”

Hearing the unspoken question, Harry forced himself to respond. “It’s nothing special.”

“Isn’t it difficult?” Luna asked.

“What?”

How much did she know? Or did she just suspect, like Hermione?

“Isn’t it difficult to keep everything straight?” Luna wasn’t really watching him, but rather something over his head. “What’s already happened, what’s happening, and what should happen?”

With a chill, Harry realized that Luna’s dreamy countenance belied a very cunning intellect that had only been hinted at in the original timeline. Not even Hermione had been so quick…

Time Tigglers?

Was it possible that these creatures Luna always went on about were  _real_? Real and just not visible to the general populace?

He had to say something. “It’s manageable.”

Luna smiled. “Was I your friend?”

Harry’s mouth was dry as he responded. “One of my best.”

She already knew and Harry knew he could trust her with his life. He had, in fact, already done so numerous times. There was no reason to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about.

A happy smile crossed Luna’s face upon Harry’s answer. “I’m glad,” she said. “Friends are wonderful, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Harry agreed, thinking of Severus, who was undoubtedly wondering where he was.

As if reading his mind, Luna nodded. “You’re late, aren’t you?”

Harry looked at his watch and saw that he was now ten minutes late. “Yes, I am. I’ll talk to you later, Luna.”

“All right, Harry.” Luna waved goodbye as he left.

Stunned by the strange conversation he had just had, Harry made his way through the corridors more absentmindedly than he usually would have.

When he finally opened the door to the Room of Requirement, Harry snapped to attention as a Blood-Boiling Curse zoomed his way. He flicked the curse out of the way, sending it back to the original caster.

“Decided to change it up, Potter?” Severus asked, side-stepping the curse. “You’re twelve minutes late.”

“Luna knows,” Harry said without any preamble.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “That you are attending the Yule Ball with Ms. Weasley?”

“She already knew that. I asked Ginny in front of her.” Harry wondered if he could be any blunter. “She knows that I’ve traveled through time.”

“What did you do?” Severus demanded.

Harry glared at him, pointing his wand at Severus. “I didn’t  _do_  anything! I can’t help it if I flinch or draw my wand at large noises. The only person who realized anything’s off is Hermione, and she doesn’t really know.”

“Minerva suspects something has changed,” Severus said. “Your suddenly brilliant marks and suspicious lack of quarreling with Malfoy have something to do with it.”

Harry blinked, disconcerted. “Really… Huh… I didn’t expect that.”

Severus caught his attention with a hex that he blocked.

“Never mind that,” Severus said impatiently. “What of Lovegood?”

“She saw Time Tigglers around me or something,” Harry said, ignoring Severus’s disbelieving snort. “However she did it, she’s clearly brilliant.” He paused shortly and continued softly, “She helped us out then…and found sanctuary for the remaining students.”

“She certainly is something,” Severus said. “I still have yet to discover how she managed to brew a Hair-Growth Potion when assigned a Boil-Removing Potion.”

Harry frowned. “Don’t those two use completely different ingredients?”

“Exactly.”

Harry tried to figure it out and failed when the theory went beyond his mental understanding. He needed a sheet of parchment and lots of time. “Amazing…”

“Was there something else?” Severus asked.

“No.” Harry raised his wand, but held off as Severus fingered his, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Are you all right?”

Severus’s tone was stilted. “You have been slightly…preoccupied lately. Is something…bothering you?”

Harry was touched that Severus cared enough to ask. “No. I’m fine.”

Severus scowled, glaring at Harry. “The rote answer. If you cannot trust me—”

“That’s not it! I  _do_  trust you!”

“Then tell me!” Severus snapped. “It has been affecting your performance.”

Hogwash. Harry had been “performing” just fine regardless of his brooding thoughts. He’d long ago learned to do so, as things would have been worse off otherwise.

But if this was the only way Severus could tell him that he was concerned – and this was clearly difficult for the man – then Harry should take the next step and tell him. It was the least he could do.

Severus was watching him expectantly.

Unbidden, the words fell from Harry’s lips. “I’m thirty years old.”

Severus seemed surprised that Harry had even said anything but vanquished the emotion. “And?”

“They’re so  _young_.”

Severus’s eyebrows rose. “This is about Ginevra Weasley?”

Harry shook his head, feeling tired. “Not just her, Severus. I’m thirty…but I’m physically fourteen. My friends are fourteen – except for you – and the age difference won’t change.”

“They will grow older,” Severus pointed out. “What’s so apparent now will not matter in ten years.”

“What about what I’ve  _seen_? What I’ve  _done_?” Harry looked at him desperately. “Your generation grew up fighting a war, Severus. You’ve killed, as have I. The friends I grew up with did the same. Now…they’re so innocent…”

“Is that not what you are trying to preserve?”

“It is.” Harry pushed up his glasses, thumbing the bridge of his nose. “But what I’ve seen, what I’ve  _done_ …they can never understand.”

Severus folded his arms. “And this relates to your friends how?”

Harry folded his own arms defensively. “I…I feel dirty just thinking about Ginny that way.”

“Then don’t,” Severus said simply.

Harry’s arms dropped. “ _Don’t_?” he spluttered. “How—”

“As you have said,” Severus continued calmly, “she is thirteen. She is not the same woman that died, the woman you remember. You can treat her as a close friend, can you not? In several years, she will no longer be a child. Whether you still see her that way in that time remains to be seen.”

Harry inhaled sharply, his emotions still rolling tumultuously inside him.

His inner conflict must have shown in some way for Severus continued speaking. “As for your friends, though they will never be the same as you remember, you will still ‘grow up’ with them in a matter of speaking. You are planning on telling them, are you not?”

“Eventually,” Harry murmured, shifting.

“The knowledge itself will already change them,” Severus said. “Once they know, they will better understand you.”

Harry sat down heavily on a table by the wall. He was suddenly very thankful he had Severus for a friend. His logical and cool mind always picked out things that his own highly emotional mind disregarded.

Severus studied him. “Are you…?” His tone sounded highly uncomfortable, as if he’d realized that he had just offered someone comfort of a sort.

Harry understood. “I’ll be fine.”

And he would be…given time.

* * *

“My dress robes are absolute rubbish,” Ron muttered disgustedly, studying the chessboard with a black look.

“What color would you prefer?” Harry asked, checking the time. It was ten at night on Christmas Eve. He wasn’t meeting Severus for another two hours.

“Anything but maroon,” Ron said, moving his rook. “And no lace.”

Harry studied the board, saw the trap Ron had set up, and adjusted his move accordingly. “I could try to do something,” he offered. “If you want, I’ll have a go at it tomorrow.”

Ron looked at him hopefully. “Would you? Wait…do you even know  _how_?”

“It’s a simple bit of Transfiguration,” Harry said.

Ron didn’t ask anymore than that and happily captured Harry’s queen in an unexpected move. Sighing in disgust, Harry began to study the chessboard more intensely. His game had improved drastically since the war, but he still stunk at creating elaborate plans ahead of time. His forte was in the heat of battle, where he could make up and discard plans in the blink of an eye as the situation rapidly changed around him.

Hermione joined them, having left the other girls to their giggling. “Who’s winning?”

“Ron,” Harry said just as Ron said, “No one so far.”

Harry blinked in surprise while Hermione murmured, “Really…” She eyed Harry speculatively.

Ron moved his knight and formed two traps that Harry couldn’t avoid. He would set one of them off regardless of what he did.

As Harry debated his next move, Hermione said, “Have you figured out the egg yet, Harry?”

“The egg?” Harry scowled upon seeing he’d have to give up his bishop and did so.

“The egg,” Hermione confirmed, irritated. “I wanted to see it again. Maybe I can figure something out—”

“I already did,” Harry said, watching Ron take his bishop with a frustrated look on his face. Evidently the redhead had expected him to make a much more foolish move.

Hermione looked surprised. “You did? What is it?”

“Dunk it underwater,” Harry said in a low voice, for once thankful for the loud din. “It turns to English.”

Hermione’s mouth had dropped in stunned surprise. “ _Mermaids_?”

“Really?” Ron asked, interested. “You have to fight one?”

“Find something they’ll take from me is more like it,” Harry said. “I have an hour.”

“An hour underwater?” Hermione said, alarmed. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner, Harry? We have to—”

“I wanted to enjoy Christmas,” Harry interrupted. “I knew that if I told you before, you’d worry and start researching. I have until  _February_ , Hermione.”

“It can wait,” Ron agreed. “Hey, Harry, are you going to make a move?”

“Don’t rush me,” Harry scolded, sparing a glance downward. His chess pieces were waiting in nervous anticipation, having gotten used to Harry’s better skills. “So, Hermione, leave it for later, all right?”

“All right,” Hermione agreed reluctantly.

The issue settled, Harry and Ron returned to their chess match. It ended an hour later with Ron finally victorious, having sprung an elaborate trap Harry hadn’t caught until three moves too late.

It was thus a little after midnight when Harry made his way to Severus’s quarters. He knocked and waited for a moment beneath his Invisibility Cloak for Severus to open the door.

When he did, it was to a warm and cozily lit room. Harry stepped in, twisting himself visible as he did.

“I didn’t expect that you would come,” Severus said finally after Harry made himself comfortable.

“I had a chess game,” Harry explained, watching his friend take a seat. “They didn’t get to bed until half past eleven.”

“I see.”

There was a short uncomfortable silence until Harry decided he’d had enough. Severus obviously wasn’t sure where to begin.

He reached into his robes and pulled out a flat round package wrapped in a dark green that was decorated with glittering snowflakes. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”

Reminiscent of the first time Harry had given Severus a Christmas present, the man was silent as Harry pushed the present in his hands. Unsure, he held it tentatively.

“I know the wrapping paper is stunning,” Harry said, keeping his voice even despite his nerves, “but the actual present is  _inside_.”

Severus started slightly and glanced at Harry quickly before looking back down at the gift. Slowly, he began to unwrap the present.

Harry watched attentively, as he hadn’t been there the first time Severus had unwrapped the present. After that Christmas, he had simply shown up on New Years’ Eve with a bottle of champagne and stayed long into the first day of 1999 despite the rather awkward atmosphere. Severus had never said anything about the gift, though Harry knew he had treasured it.

When the gift was fully unwrapped, Severus was absolutely silent for a long moment, an indiscernible expression on his face. Eventually, it morphed into something undeniably tender and he touched the picture as if it was the most fragile thing in the world.

Set in the photo frame of a lily was a Muggle photograph of Severus and Lily at twelve years of age. Lily was looking at the lily in her hands with a soft smile on her face, while a clearly bashful Severus looked on nervously.

“I found it,” Harry said uncertainly upon Severus’s extended silence, “in Godric’s Hollow.” The sound of Harry’s voice made Severus look up, as if remembering that he was there. Harry continued, nervous now, “You might not like the picture frame. You never told me—”

“It’s perfect,” Severus said abruptly, cutting Harry off. “Thank you…Harry.”

Harry blinked, thrown off by the use of his first name. “Wow… Is that my Christmas present?”

Severus looked uncomfortable. “Hardly, P-Harry. It wouldn’t be much of one.” He shifted nervously and retrieved a package from the table by him. It was wrapped in a shimmery silver and bore a dark green ribbon.

Harry took it nervously, having not really expected a present at all. He’d only told Severus about everything in September and though they had spent a lot of time together, Harry hadn’t thought that Severus really  _truly_  considered him a close friend. A close acquaintance, yes, but a friend?

He remembered the memories he had given Severus and wondered if the man had viewed all of them yet. He didn’t need them back – they were only copies – but he wondered.

“I know the wrapping paper is stunning,” Severus said dryly, clearly still uncomfortable, “but the actual present is  _inside_.”

Embarrassed at having his own words thrown back at him, Harry began unwrapping the present. It felt oddly like a book…

The last of the wrapping paper fell to the side and Harry stared at the leather-bound journal in stunned astonishment. It looked so familiar…

With trembling fingers, Harry opened the front cover and was greeted with a familiar spidery crawl that read

_I trust you will find this useful._

_Severus Snape_

The next pages were filled with writing. After only a cursory glance, Harry could tell that the entire journal was filled with potions recipes and Severus’s own private notes.

It was very similar, if not exactly identical, to Harry’s very first present from Severus. He suspected that Severus had given him this with that knowledge in mind. For the man, it was a promise of friendship and a declaration of trust.

Harry found that there was a lump in his throat as he looked up at a visibly nervous Severus, though the only way one could tell was because the man was absolutely still.

“Thank you,” Harry said thickly.  _For absolutely everything…_  He cleared his throat and tried again. “Thank you, Severus. You have no idea how…how much this means to me.”

Severus cleared his throat as well, reading the second layer in Harry’s words. “I have some idea,” he said in a rough voice. “I am pleased you approve of it. It took up a great deal of my time.”

Remembering all the nights that Severus had been scribbling away during the time Harry had still been practicing by himself, he smiled at Severus. “Happy Christmas, Severus.”

It took Severus a moment longer but he responded. “Happy Christmas…Harry.”

* * *

Harry woke with a start that morning after his meeting with Severus, drawing his wand and binding his attacker with a mere thought.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up and Harry realized with horror that he had just bound Dobby to the wall.

“Dobby, I’m sorry!” He released the house-elf as quickly as he could.

Dobby seemed bashful and not at all frightened. “Dobby is sorry, sir!” he whispered loudly. “Dobby has forgotten that he is not to startle Harry Potter like that, sir!”

Before Harry could ask him what he meant, he saw that the other boys in the dormitory were looking at him and Dobby with sleepy curiosity.

“Someone attacking you, Harry?” Seamus asked.

“No,” Harry said, thankful for this fact. He realized he was still holding his wand and put it away as quickly as he could. “It’s just Dobby. Go back to sleep.”

“Nah…presents!” Seamus bounded out of bed to attack his large pile.

Aware that the others were doing the same, Harry turned back to Dobby, wandlessly putting up a weak Silencing Charm. The house-elf had a Christmas bauble tied to his tea cozy.

“What did you mean that you forgot?” Harry asked. “I never told you!”

“Harry Potter did not need to!” Dobby replied earnestly. “His magic is active and Dobby should know better!”

Wondering about that, Harry decided to let it drop. The dorm was not the best place for such a conversation.

“Did you need something?” Harry asked, pulling down the charm.

Dobby began beaming. “Dobby wanted to wish Harry Potter ‘Happy Christmas’ and give him his present!” He handed Harry the small package he had with him.

Unwrapping it, Harry found it to be a pair of socks. One was bright red with broomsticks while the other was green with Snitches. Remembering the sacrifice Dobby had made so long ago – or three years in the future – Harry was fiercely glad that the loyal house-elf was here.

“Thanks, Dobby,” Harry said, smiling. He pulled on them on, eliciting a broad happy smile from the house-elf. I’ve got something for you, too.”

That might not have been true last time but it was certainly true now.

Harry rummaged around in his night table and pulled out a garishly wrapped package that he knew Dobby would love, handing it to an overcome Dobby.

The house-elf undid the package to reveal a pair of blue woolen socks. He was thoroughly delighted upon seeing them.

“Socks are Dobby’s favorite, favorite clothes, sir!” Dobby said delightedly, taking off his old mismatched socks and pulling the new ones. “I have seven now, sir… But sir…” His eyes were widening upon seeing the socks, which had been extended to their fullest amount so that they touched the bottom of his shorts. “They has made a mistake in the shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!”

Before Harry could berate himself for having forgotten this other penchant of Dobby, Ron saved him. “Ah, no, Harry, how come you didn’t spot that?” He was sporting a wide grin. “Tell you what, Dobby – here you go – take these two, and you can mix them up properly. And here’s your sweater.”

He threw Dobby a pair of violet socks he’d unwrapped – Harry wondered if the giver was perhaps colorblind; Ron didn’t like violet – and the hand-knitted sweater Molly had given him.

Dobby was quite overwhelmed at Ron’s generosity. “Sir is very kind!” he gushed, his eyes brimming with tears. He bowed deeply to Ron. “Dobby knew sir must be a great wizard, for he is one of Harry Potter’s greatest friends, but Dobby did not know that he was also as generous of spirit, as noble, as selfless—”

“They’re only socks,” Ron said, whose ears were slightly pink by now. He was still opening presents and pulled out the present Harry had given him. “Wow, Harry… A wand holster?”

“So what happened at the Cup doesn’t happen again,” Harry said. “You put it on like this.” He pulled up his right arm sleeve and showed Ron his own. “And the wand goes in like this.” He demonstrated with a quick flick of his wrist.

“So that explains how you’re always so quick on the draw,” Ron said, pulling it on and admiring how it looked. He didn’t seem to notice Harry’s startled face. He put his wand inside and gave a couple of experimental flicks. “Thanks, Harry!”

So Ron had noticed that he was jumpier than usual? And he  _hadn’t_  asked? Harry suspected Hermione’s involvement.

Dobby had finished pulling on one of the violet socks and Molly’s sweater. “Dobby must go now, sir,” he told Harry, “we is already making Christmas dinner in the kitchens!” And then he hurried out of the dormitory, waving to everyone.

Ron finished unwrapping his presents and jumped on Harry’s bed. “What have you got, mate?”

Harry began opening his own presents, realizing that this was the first proper Christmas he’d had in years without the threat of Voldemort hanging over his head. Well…he was still hanging over his head. He just wasn’t threatening Harry with attacks on his friends.

The Dursleys had actually given Harry a shirt this year and Harry supposed they were remembering his threats from the summer. Granted, the shirt was too large and the colors ridiculous, but he supposed it was the thought that counted. Hermione’s present was a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Ron had given Harry a bag of Dungbombs that Harry thought he might use in Trelawney’s classroom. No one could deny the room needed a different perfume. Sirius’s present was a penknife with attachments that could unlock any lock and undo any knot; Harry resolved to treasure this as he had never been able to find another after it had been ruined in his fifth year. Hagrid had given him a box full of sweets, from which Harry gave Ron some since it was too much. Molly had again come through to send him a green sweater with a dragon on it and a quantity of homemade mince pies.

“Suppose she thinks you could do with some fattening up,” Ron said, watching Harry pull out the pies. “Don’t know why…you’re looking pretty good.”

The only reason Harry was looking good and more like a normal fourteen-year-old was because of the modified nutrition potion Severus had been brewing.

“Oh, Harry, look…” Ron caught his attention. “You’ve got two more presents. Who’re they from?”

Surprised, Harry picked the two packages. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would be sending him something. He checked them for spells and came up empty.

Wondering, Harry began to unwrap the one that was wrapped rather simply in plain brown paper. He had given Kreacher and Draco something this Christmas, considering them his friends even if the house-elf had only seen him once and Draco was still uncertain around him.

Kreacher had received an old picture of Regulus Black that Harry had found in the library one day. He knew Madame Pince would never miss it since the book had been shelved in a forgotten corner of the library that no one ever went into, the picture tucked away as an afterthought by some long-forgotten student. To Draco had gone his model of the Hungarian Ridgeback he’d faced in his first task. Considering the meaning of Draco’s name, he thought it an appropriate present.

But he didn’t expect anything from those two so who would—

A box fell into Harry’s lap. Curious now, Harry opened it and stopped in surprise upon seeing treacle tart in it. There was no note but as Harry took a closer look at the box, he saw the Black insignia on it. So it was from Kreacher…

Pleased at the thoughtfulness of the old house-elf and wondering how he knew of Harry’s fondness for treacle tart, Harry moved onto the other, more elaborately wrapped present. There was a card with this one.

_Potter,_

_I don’t expect you to learn these moves by heart but it’s a good start._

_Thanks for the dragon. It was unusually thoughtful._

_Draco Malfoy_

“ _Malfoy_?” Ron said incredulously. “ _Malfoy_  sent you something?”

“Apparently,” Harry said, looking at the book filled with dancing instructions. It was an odd present from the Malfoy but Harry suspected it was rather because Draco didn’t know what else to give.

“It’s not cursed, is it?” Ron asked suspiciously, looking at the book as if it might bite their heads off. “Why is he sending you a book on  _dancing_?”

“I did him a favor a while back,” Harry said, “and I asked him to teach me how to dance. I didn’t want to embarrass myself, you know. I suppose he thought I did well enough.”

Ron spluttered in disgust and shock. “You asked  _Malfoy_  to teach you how to  _dance_?”

“I figured he would know,” Harry said, organizing his presents. He held the shirt the Dursleys had given him and thought it might be a good present for Hagrid if he cast an  _Engorgio_. But since Hagrid already had a present from him and the shirt was very hideous, Harry thought he should just bury it at the bottom of his trunk and forget about it.

“And what dragon is he talking about?” Ron said, completely lost. “Not a real one, surely?”

“Hell no,” Harry said in alarm. “Have you forgotten Hagrid? I gave him the model of the dragon I received after the first task.”

“Oh,” Ron said, relieved. “That’s all right then…”

They were about to head downstairs when Ron asked in a low voice, “So I suppose you were serious, then, about making Malfoy your friend?”

Harry paused, sensing that Ron was worried about something. “I am,” he said cautiously, turning to look his friend in the eye. “He’s not a bad bloke, really, when you get past his snobbiness. He won’t ever be my  _best_  friend, though.”

These words had the desired effect and Ron’s face relaxed.

As they met up with Hermione and headed to breakfast, Harry thought that this Christmas had been very promising so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The topic of the mental age difference between Harry and his friends is something that I always find interesting in time travel fics. And it's one that deserves to be brought up. Also, there isn't going to be any romance for Harry in this story. He was in a relationship in his apocalyptic future, but he's not in one now and won't be in one. Namely because of the age difference and also because I don't have any desire to write one. So, rest assured, there are only going to be a few scenes about the whole Harry/Ginny thing and that'll be it.
> 
> And Luna! I love the idea of a Luna who sees more than others can.
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


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